Easter Dinner

Eleven years ago on Easter Wayne and I took the obligatory road trip from our apartment in Toronto to Goderich where my parents were. The had moved from their house in the metropolis of Stratford to a mobile home in a trailer park outside of Goderich – which is actually crowned “Canada’s Prettiest Town”. My family had morphed into actual trailer trash!
Wayne and I slept in the tiny back bedroom that barely fit a double bed. It was right beside the somewhat stinky toilet. Whatever. They loved the place.
My family is not religious. Not in the least. I have often joked that Easter is the holiday where we celebrate the day that the Easter Bunny killed Jesus and then came back to life to curse the bunny by hiding all his eggs every year. I think I’m right.
My brother hadn’t come home for Easter that year. He and his wife were living in Alberta at the time while he explored his inner cattle rancher. They did call though during Easter dinner.
Now, my Mom, in her tradition as the world’s worst cook, had prepared a fiesta of ham, scalloped potatoes, mixed veg, cabbage salad and rolls. MMMMMMM. Okay, not really mmm but okay. She never really cared to try, God bless her.
Anyway, my brother called during dinner. We passed the phone around the table and everyone talked to Craig. It is my opinion that my parents sincerely believed that the sun shone out of my brother’s ass and lit up the world. Whatever.
My Mother inevitably started to cry. She missed having my brother around so much and it was especially hard at a holiday – any holiday. She hung up the phone, and came back to the table. She kept crying and we were all just trying to be supportive, “you’ll see him soon” “at least he’s doing something he loves!”
And then we all turn and look at Wayne. My husband is eating his dinner. Not saying a word. And he has two baby carrots – one shoved up each nostril. And he’s just eating his dinner. My Mother laughed and laughed and laughed. We all did. And Wayne just looked at us and said, “what?”

Its an especially happy story for me because it was the last time we spent with my Mom. Shortly after dinner, we left to head back to Toronto. We never saw her again. I’m glad we left her on an insane note. It just makes sense that way.