Mostly True Memoirs
A Special Birthday Dinner
It was my mother’s birthday.
She’s been gone a long time now.
Every year I make her a special birthday dinner.
We always have chicken tetrazzini.
It’s a pasta dish with chicken and mushrooms in a cream and wine sauce.
Mom loved it.
Every year, The Grown Sons complain bitterly about the mushrooms.
Every year I tell them that I don’t care if they don’t like it.
Grandma liked it.
That’s all that counts.
Every year, they come up with new and innovative ways to insult the mushrooms.
I guess we’re creating new family traditions.
Not, perhaps, the traditions that I had in mind.
Mom loved a well-placed insult.
She would have been greatly entertained by The Grown Sons’ vulgar descriptions of the mushrooms.
But soon she would have shut them down.
She had a terrific sense of humor.
But not a whole lot of patience.
Happy birthday, Mom, I miss you every day.
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