I never thought that the egg artwork of my wife would trigger two memories from the past. When I asked my wife what inspired her to paint a fried egg, she said that it reminded her of our three sons when they were still young. In my case, I was reminded of my sister and my colleagues during our seminary days.
Perfect Split
My sister prefers the white part of the egg, and for some reason she hates the yellow part. So every time she fried an egg, she isolates the white, while in horror she willingly gives me the yellow part. When I was young, I viewed the egg white as nothing but useless, so I was more than happy to receive the yellow part of the egg from my sister.
Three Aces
More than a week ago, my wife painted a fried egg. As already shared, her painting reminded her of her three sons when they were still young. I forgot exactly what specific scenario he had in mind about our sons that prompted her to paint such a common piece of art, and yet it points to a simple food, which remains a very vital part of the meal of most households. I imagine my wife sighing sentimentally while reminiscing, and yet experiencing consolation when the art task got completed.
The Egg Prophets
The last egg story is about a seminary in the 80's where seminarians became prophets, predicting that their breakfast would be fried eggs the next morning. I remember that during nighttime, many of them voiced out the same prophecy, "Hear ye, for tomorrow the sky shall weep yellow, and our plates shall overflow with the crispiest of fried eggs." They do this not out of gratitude but disgust. At that time, I had difficulty understanding such an attitude, for in my case, having a breakfast meal is already something uncommon.