Easter Justice

Richard Homburg

Easter Justice

7/25/09



I awake to the tapping sound of rain outside my bedroom window. It is not a cloudy day for me, but a special one – my birthday. And extra special since it is Easter. According to the perpetual calendar, I won’t see Easter on my birthday again for the rest of my life, the next one being in 2063, sixty-two years away. I make my way to the kitchen for coffee to kick start my brain like every morning. That gives me time to decide what to fix for breakfast.

I decide to make what I haven’t had in years: a Dutch-style breakfast like the ones my mother made on special days like this. Two soft-boiled eggs served in egg holders, cereal, a toasted sandwich with ham and cheese, and a glass of juice. For cereal I’ll have to settle for Lucky Charms, my son’s favorite cereal when he’s mine every other weekend. I don’t have any Gouda so I’ll settle for cheddar to make what we call grilled ham and cheese. I’m out of ham also, but I do have some leftover sliced turkey from last week’s lunches. It’ll have to do. After all, this is special. It’s my birthday and it’s Easter.

I get the eggs boiling. Seven minutes boiling time. Or is it six? Meanwhile, I’ll get the frying pan heated up. Slice some cheese. I can tell the knife needs to be sharpened as I struggle to get the knife through the cheese. I need to make more coffee too.

I get into a last minute frenzy just as the stove timer counts down the last minute for the eggs and my grilled cheese needs to be flipped. I also forgot to put coffee in the basket. I’ll need to start that over. Pour cereal and milk in a bowl without spilling cereal and splashing milk on the counter. Don’t forget the juice.

I get myself seated at the table with my gourmet birthday breakfast before me. I set one of the eggs in one of four egg holders my mother gave us for when we got married. I crack the top of the egg with my spoon and peel away an opening big enough to get my spoon in. Sprinkle a little salt and pepper in the egg and take a bite of my sandwich which, by this time has cheese oozing out the sides. I stir the inside of the egg to get the salt and pepper mixed in. The egg is a little runny. I should have boiled them a minute longer. So it must be seven minutes instead of six. It’s not a disaster. My breakfast is edible. Next time boil the eggs for seven minutes and don’t fry the grilled cheese as long.

After a few bites, reality hits. Here I am celebrating my birthday by myself on a special day – Easter. What rotten timing that my son is with his mother instead of with me for my birthday. She probably has a big smile on her face knowing that I am by myself on this special day, a once in a lifetime birthday on Easter and celebrating it by giving Kevin an extra special Easter. Why did we have to get divorced when we did? Did she plan it this way? It’s been two months now. I’m so alone for two weeks out of the month and this is only the beginning. Just then an idea pops into my head.

I quickly finish my breakfast, take a shower, get dressed, and head out the door. I know exactly what I’m going to do. I am going to have some justice my way. I’ll be showing her. I am going to be the one to come out on top of this.

I open the big doors and walk inside. I walk up to a man holding a stack of paper.

“Hi, my name is Mark.” I said holding out my hand and a tear hanging from my eye. “Today is my birthday. I’m divorced. My son is with his mother, and I want to share my birthday with somebody.”

The man looked at me for a few seconds, pressed his lips together and looked down at the floor. He set the stack of service schedules on a table next to him and took hold of my hand with both of his hands as the tear in my eye found its way out.

“Welcome to our church. Welcome and God bless.”