Ancient History

Follow Me?



Sam is seven years old today.

He was born on July 13th, 2000 at 11:24am. Before he understood where 11:24am falls in the day, I gave him a little perspective: You were born at lunchtime.

Sam loves thinking about how he was born during lunch. When the kids talk about where, when, and how they were born, he proudly mentions his mealtime birth. I think he pictures me nibbling a grilled cheese sandwich when out he popped. Maybe he imagines I stopped to take a swig of my Coke or wipe a little mustard away from the corner of my mouth—because I always dip my grilled cheese sandwiches in mustard.

Out of the six kids, he was the one born when the sun was highest in the sky. A morning’s work done, time for a brief respite of feet up and soup’s-on. The rude afternoon taps its foot, waiting for a finger to swipe clinging broth off the side of the bowl. Lick it off, drop the bowl in the sink, get back to work.

The day he was born, I didn’t have to. My work was done. I just held him, after lunch, and enjoyed.

11 comments to Lunchtime

Leave a Reply

You can use these HTML tags

<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>