How Goulash Reminds Me That I Love My Mom

A co-worker of mine just warmed some Hungarian goulash in the microwave for lunch. I stopped moving and played a little movie in my head, hand still on the cupboard door. It went a little something like this:

“Mom, I have to do a presentation in class on Hungary. Is Hungary in our encyclopedias or was that after they were printed?”
“I don’t know much about Hungary, but I can make Hungarian goulash…”
“That’d be great, Mom! You can bring it to my class and give everyone a bowl. I wanted to give a report on Germany – East or West, but some other kid got it! So I had to go with Hungary… speaking of, when’s that soup gonna be ready?!”

Little did I realize then that a bowl of goulash for all thirty kids in my 5th grade class was a tall order. I think I even had the audacity to ask for bread sticks – you know, the Hungarian kind. I also didn’t think through the fact that my mom had a job, and would have to tote our giant Crockpot to work to keep it warm for the morning before bringing it to my class at some unusual time, say 1:26 PM. Then there was the spill. I can imagine now the frustration of spilling a tomato-based soup in the car! She was running late and the heavy pot slipped out of her fingers! What a mess that must have been! But my Mom did it, and it’s a testament to her love, dedication and motherly-ness. It’s time to thank her now, because I am sure that I didn’t then. Thanks Mom, and happy Mother’s Day!

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