The Mother's Day Gift

The Mother's Day Gift

The Mother’s Day Gift
Writer’s Cramp Entry
May 8, 2004

Mrs. Oura stepped back from the leafy window of the nest and sighed. “He’s at it again, dear. He’s out there digging up all the acorns and burying them again.”

Mr. Oura shrugged. “I don’t know why he’s doing that. He’s not even eating them. He just looks at them and buries them again.”

Mrs. Oura wrung her paws and worried. “You don’t think he’s a little crazy do you? I’m so afraid he might run out in the road like poor Uncle Henry.”

Mr. Oura shuddered. “I hope not. Perhaps this is just a 'phase' he’s going through.”

A short time later, Skip Oura came bouncing into the nest with his paws all dirty and his fur a filthy mess.

Mrs. Oura scolded him. “Skip! You’re a mess! If you didn’t spend all day out there digging in the dirt, you wouldn’t be so grubby. Now groom all that sand out of your fur right now!”

Skip flicked his tongue over the worst tufts of fur and curled up in a ball in the corner of the nest for a nap. His mother’s scolding didn’t bother him in the least.

The next morning Skip was busy in the yard digging more holes. His mother watched from her leafy perch above. For the life of her, she could not figure out why he was obsessed with digging up all the acorns. She was very concerned about her little boy Skip.

A few days later was Sunday, Mother’s Day. Mr. Oura went out and picked some of the most beautiful daisy blossoms from the garden two houses over. He presented the flowers with a flourish to Mrs. Oura. She smiled and fluttered her tail in delight. She licked his ear as a thank you and arranged them around the edge of their nest.

A short time later, Skip came hopping into the nest smiling from whisker to whisker. Between his soiled paws he held an acorn. He held it out to his mother.

“Skip!” She scolded again. “Look at all this dirt you’re bringing into the nest! Now go outside and clean yourself off! Don’t come back into the nest until you are clean.” She shook her head and flicked her ears in annoyance.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” Skip chattered as he bounced back out onto the branches.

Mrs. Oura looked down at the acorn in her paw. Suddenly she began to cry.

“What’s wrong dear?” Mr. Oura looked at her with concern.

Mrs. Oura sobbed and held out the acorn for Mr. Oura to see. There in the center of her paw lay an unusual acorn. Although it was dusty and scratched from being dug up from the earth, by some odd chance of nature the acorn was shaped like a heart.

She hopped out onto the branch to hug her son for the wonderful Mother’s Day gift.

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