Cooking Scrambled Eggs
I can see him still in his worn and faded overalls
Slowly cracking each egg
Placing them one by one in the bowl
Each slowly whisked together
A pinch of salt
A touch of pepper
A bit of milk
Deliberately mixed and then added to the pan
Its heat is so very low
And the stirring continues
So very gradually they cook
This old gentleman, with the little grey hair he has left, works at this job like every job I’ve ever seen him do
– unhurried
With a content smile
Consistency in his approach
His labor untroubled
The cooking finally completed even in that ultra-low heat
And alas they are delicious
Light and fluffy
Masterfully seasoned before they are ever plated
They melt in your mouth
They bring joy
Quite frankly are perfect
The eggs I cook are scrambled…
But often have a bit of shell included
Cooked in a hot pan
They are done quickly
There is little wait before you can eat
But they are dry
You better add seasoning before you taste
and alas
They bring little joy
The job is done…the meal prepared but…
Like most of my life they are done in a rush
and without a smile…
hurried along as “What’s Next” seems to be ever looming
The aged retired millworker, church sexton and lifelong farmer (and master breakfast maker) seems to know so much more about line than this man I am
– with my fancy certificates and degrees
Maybe the secret he whispers in his slow South Carolina drawl is to take it slow.
Be deliberate.
Perhaps the old man’s lesson to me – that I have never learned – is that the pleasure of life is found in the journey and not in crossing off “to do’s”
AND by choosing to really do the job right
…unhurried…
consistent…
with a slow, deliberate and gentle shuffle full of grace and not a flustered and panting sprint to be done
Only in living in the moment will joy indeed be realized
Hope appreciated
And life, love, and beauty fully savored
It’s a simple lesson that sadly I’ve been in too big a hurry to learn
My breakfast is done but not enjoyed
and my life is lived but not experienced
A life not well lived but hurried along as tasks are finished and a living accomplished
but the love of life lost…
Perhaps someday I will master this…
Unfortunately, there is no time to do it today…
Or is there?
Clay Gunter
August 2nd and 3rd, 2014 updated/completed 4/26/18
(In loving memory of Harold Foster – “Mr. Foster”)