Writing the Self 1

Writing the Self 1: Garth Brooks and Cinnamon Buns

It’s 9 AM on a Saturday, way too early for my 15-year-old self to be awoken. I’m laying in my twin bed with a white headboard embossed with George Strait and 4-H stickers. I groan to myself, “Why, mother!”, full well knowing she cannot hear me; I sleep downstairs, along with my older sister, but she won’t awake until 2 PM at the earliest. This is what I experience almost every weekend, that is, when Mom hasn’t gone to town for groceries. She’s got Garth Brooks playing on the six-disc CD player. This usually angers me to no end. Sometimes it’s The Cars, but I think it depends what mood she’s in. It’s not that I don’t like Garth Brooks or The Cars, but rather because she has awoken me, a teenage, early on a weekend. I’m just lucky she isn’t vacuuming; I don’t know if my blood rises higher than when I get awoken by the vacuum.I’m laying in bed wishing that, one: I could fall back asleep, and two: when is she going to turn it dowwwwn? Suddenly, the sweet and comforting scent of cinnamon buns drafts through the register on my ceiling. I lay there and take it in for a while, the tension of my shoulders now releasing. I decide to head upstairs to confirm that my mind wasn’t just playing tricks on me. I slowly make it up the 12-step staircase and to my right is Mom gently rolling up the sugar- and cinnamon-encrusted dough. “Morning, Mom,” I say, still not fully awake. “Hi, Maisy!” she announces my nickname enthusiastically, with a smile. I think, “How can anyone be this happy at 9 AM?” Then I turn my attention to more important things. As always, I snatch the ends of the dough, you know, the pieces too small to actually make buns out of? Despite the burps the raw dough gives me, I always keep coming back for more. “Oh, so delicious. So satisfying,” I think to myself.And just like that, I’m not mad at Mom anymore for blaring Garth Brooks. The cinnamon buns have overtaken any harsh feelings and I am left with the soothing experience of Mom baking in the kitchen, one of my favourite things in the world. I just hope she doesn’t vacuum tomorrow morning…

 

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2 thoughts on “Writing the Self 1

  1. Hi Lacy!

    Your blog post literally made me smile and laugh out loud! The depiction of your mornings was beautifully written. I think that it is awesome that you grew up with an involved mother. Yes, despite the annoyance of loud music in the morning, she sounds like she had an amazing home presence. The baking part is something that I did not really grow up with and I really appreciated the beautiful picture you painted. How many siblings did you grow up with? What part of Saskatchewan did you grow up with and did you raise other animals on your family farm! I really enjoyed your post! Thank you for sharing!

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  2. Thank you so much, Myriam, for your kind comments! I’m so glad I could make you laugh out loud. Yes, she really did create a good ‘home’ presence for us. I have two sisters, I am the middle child 🙂 I grew up in Northern Saskatchewan, lots of forest and lakes. We lived literally in the middle of a really lush forest with some hay fields surrounding us. Thanks again for your comment, Myriam!

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