Wednesday, October 1, 2014

The Chicken and the Egg

When my mom found me, I was curled up into a fetal position. I was counting down the minutes for the Advil to work.

“Imagine your pain multiplied by 100, that’s what labor pains are like,” she said as she covered me with a fuzzy fleece blanket. Having this pain once a month is enough for me.

“That’s a huge sacrifice that mothers make,” I said.
“It’s true, but people underestimate the chicken,” she replied.
“What do you mean?”
“Women go through these pains once a month and go through a lot to deliver a baby,” she explained, “but the chicken does that every single day.”

She recounted that as a young child, every morning she would hear the loud clucks of a distressed chicken, signaling the laying of an egg. Soon after, the eggs would be collected for consumption. Sometimes chickens would lay eggs multiple times a day. After some time, the chicken that had provided their daily sustenance would be sacrificed for food as well.

When the medicine started working I began to feel hungry. I wanted something warm to soothe my cramps and found some boiled chicken my mom had made. I soft boiled an egg and ladled some chicken and broth in to a bowl. With a newfound appreciation for the chicken and the egg I enjoyed every bite, realizing this chicken lived, experienced pain and died in order to provide food and comfort to me. Now I have found new meaning in the normal routine of cooking eggs for breakfast or using chicken to make a casserole.

Chicken, I have underestimated you. You are strong and generous, and I thank you for your sacrifice.


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