I was in no mood to bake cookies-or anything else really. A dear friend of many, many years has died and it really was completely unexpected. I'm still trying to get used to the idea that I can't pick up the phone and share some silly Danny story. Everywhere I turn I find constant reminders in the dishtowels she sent me, her old scarf I still wear each winter, the coat and snow pants Danny has finally grown into. I have her dishes, her books, old lesson plans and workbook pages from when she was a teacher (sent for homeschooling Danny) and so on. For heaven's sake, she outfitted most of Danny's first four years of clothing (and a good part of mine over the last couple decades). It finally snowed today-I was waiting to take photos of Danny in the snow pants to send her.
It snowed, and snowed and snowed today. My husband's car is in the shop, so we were stuck home without transportation and I watched the snow piling up and lost any desire to put Danny in his snow-pants and play outside. Around noon Danny asked if we could bake something and I made these cookies almost robotically- they're cookies, I guess. They taste OK. Danny likes them. I want to go back to bed. I can't go back to bed, so I baked cookies and then I made dinner and did laundry. I washed Evelyn's dishtowels. I should pack them away, not so much to save but because I can't look at them without falling apart. I'll probably vacuum. Pushing the Hoover about is healthy.
I realise, I'll probably never go back to Massachusetts. Nearly everyone I cared about has moved or is dead. As I wrote elsewhere, I've reached the age where my friends have started to die and while I'm not all that concerned for my own mortality, it hurts like hell to bury your friends.
The damned snow keeps falling and the temperature is hovering around zero. I baked cookies and made pizza for dinner because I didn't know what else to do.
The cookie recipe may be found HERE.
The pizza was just thrown together with tinned olives and a jar of red peppers. I crammed the dough into two 9 inch round baking pans that I oiled lightly.
Posting will probably be light, and uninspired for a while.
4 comments:
Oh honey, I am so sorry for your loss. It sounds like you're doing the right kind of grieving ... puttering about, weeping at the sight of reminders, more puttering, and eating. This is why people bring food to the bereved ... eating is a good way to grieve. When my mother died, every time I popped a cookie in my mouth, I followed it with "I'm grieving." It made me giggle. Wishing you peace.
Thank you.
I am so sorry for your loss. Hugs to you.
Thanks, JK. I know you've been dealing with a loss too, and I hope you're all doing well.
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