By Louisa Vilardi 
I met a man named David Ringwood a few years back at our local community theater when I began working there as the production photographer. David’s booming personality and whirlwind energy were impossible to miss. Between frantic final dress rehearsals and the backstage bustle, conversations about our lives remained elusive, snatched moments punctuated by dropped cues and urgent costume needs. I did, though, know one thing about David: his wife had passed away.
I knew this because sometimes photos and posts of his late wife flickered across my social media feed—heartfelt tributes and captures of a beautiful woman. Grief hung in the air, unspoken yet heavy. I yearned to offer solace, but the timing never aligned, and the awkwardness lingered. These glimpses into David’s life struck a deep chord within me as a mother. It felt like I was grieving for a woman I had never met, yet through these vulnerable posts, I was slowly learning about the immense love that had shaped David and his family and the impact a mother’s love can have.
Then, a Facebook post, brimming with bittersweet joy, stopped me in my scrolling tracks. David shared this memory:
“Happy Backwards Day! One Sunday morning, many years ago after a party at our home the previous night, I woke rather late to find a very young Liam (about 2 1/2 years old) seated at the breakfast table with his mom standing nearby. To my amazement, under her watchful supervision he was eating a rather large piece of CAKE she had given him – for BREAKFAST!
Somewhat surprised, I turned and confronted his mother, who was looking a little tired and a bit embarrassed as I don’t think she had quite expected to see me up that early.
“Why is our son eating cake for breakfast?” I asked.
Seeing this exchange, hearing my tone of voice, & wondering if he might be in trouble Liam looked at his mom, waiting for her response.
Almost immediately, with a big smile and grand gesture of her hands (as she often did), Maria announced happily: “Well, it’s ‘Backwards Day!’ We have dessert for breakfast, and breakfast for dinner.”
It was a quick answer, from a bright young woman who was caught feeding cake to her toddler son (because, as she later explained to me she was just too tired to argue with him that morning when he asked for it).
At that point all I could do was smile, then we all laughed and each ate a piece of cake for breakfast on that very first “Backwards Day”. (Later that day, to complete the “ruse,” Maria served her family bacon, eggs & toast for dinner.)
So today on what would have been her 60th birthday, and as we’ve done each year since her passing in 2003 we will remember and celebrate Maria on May 21st as we recognize “Backwards Day”.
After I finish posting this I’ll be having a dish of ice cream now, and tonight we’ll have breakfast for dinner.”
“Backwards Day,” the post proclaimed. A whimsical rebellion against routine, born from a tired mother’s indulgence and a son’s sweet tooth. It was a simple act, yet one that resonated deeply. Here was a testament to Maria’s spirit: quick-witted, endlessly creative, and overflowing with love for her family.
With a lump in my throat, I realized why David’s posts about Maria resonated so deeply. They weren’t just about loss, but about celebrating the vibrant tapestry of a life well-lived. This “Backwards Day” tradition, a mischievous flicker in the face of the mundane, embodied that spirit perfectly. A reminder to us moms that the most beautiful moments can bloom from the most unexpected seeds.
So tonight for dinner some of us might raise a glass (or maybe a cold cup of milk) to a woman we have never met. We’ll savor a dinner of champions—pancakes, bacon, cereal, the works—all in the name of a beautiful soul and a day that started with cake.
by Brandon Janous 
by Brittany Reiling 
