We are frustrated with how the country is running but remember these Words It is nothing that the government can do for us that we can` do for ourselves President Ronald Reagan

The Queen’s Invitation

Breakfast was always my favorite time of day. It wasn’t just the buttery smell of freshly baked bread or the way the morning light painted our little kitchen gold; it was the people. Breakfast meant all of us—Mother, Father, Liam, and me—were together. No farm chores, no errands, no royal duties to distract us. For those precious moments, it felt like time stood still, just for our family.

But today was different.

Mother’s hands trembled as she spread jam on a piece of toast. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, but I could see a hint of nervousness in the tightness of her smile. She kept adjusting the collar of her dress, even though it was already perfectly pressed.

“Are you nervous, Mother?” Liam asked, biting into a sausage.

“A little,” she admitted, laughing softly. “It’s not every day you get invited to the royal courtyard for lunch.”

The Queen’s invitation had arrived yesterday, sealed with the royal crest. The letter had been so formal, so grand, we could hardly believe it was addressed to our mother. We were farmers, after all—simple folk with no noble lineage or grand titles. Yet Queen Forester herself had requested Mother’s presence.

“Hard work pays off,” Father said, his voice brimming with pride. “The Queen wouldn’t have invited you if she didn’t see your worth.”

Mother had always been the heart of our community. She organized harvest festivals, helped neighbors in need, and managed our farm with a precision that could rival the royal steward. People often said she had a way of making everyone feel seen and valued.

“But why lunch?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. “Does the Queen want advice on farming?”

Father chuckled. “Maybe she wants your mother’s secret bread recipe.”

Mother blushed, brushing crumbs from her lap. “I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.”

By the time breakfast ended, the excitement in the house was palpable. Liam and I helped Mother prepare, polishing her best shoes and smoothing out the folds of her green dress. She tied her hair up with a ribbon, a simple yet elegant look that suited her perfectly.

The entire village gathered to see her off when the royal carriage arrived. The coachman tipped his hat, and Mother stepped inside with a final wave.

As the carriage disappeared down the road, I couldn’t help but wonder what awaited her in the royal courtyard. Would the Queen ask for advice? Offer a reward? Or was this invitation something more—a recognition that you didn’t need royal blood to be extraordinary?

We wouldn’t know until Mother returned, but one thing was certain: today was special. Not just because of the Queen’s invitation, but because it reminded us of the power of kindness, perseverance, and community.

And we couldn’t have been prouder in our little kitchen over plates of breakfast crumbs.