Short Stories

Cookie Memories

Mom loved baking cookies.

Every holiday had special kinds of cookies filling up the kitchen with a homey tasty smell.

Easter smelled like sweet candy. It might be weird to have candy flavored cookies but mom knew just how to make it taste right.

Summer cookies, baked on the day our days get longer, smelled like the usual butterscotch or coconut cookies.

Early fall or late summer had the peanuts, oatmeal and oatmeal raisin cookies usually coming out when school starts.

Thanksgiving brought pie flavored cookies. Weird? No. Delicious. Apple pie, pumpkin pie, pecan, you name it.

Christmas brought MnM's, chocolate chip, and her famous snow dazzlers. They're full of chocolate and sprinkles and yummy powder.

I used to help her. 

When I was still the only child, she'd only need to call my name once and I'd race to the kitchen to help her bake. We'd get messy and would smell like a bakery afterwards, but it was okay. We loved spending time together, talking, laughing, tasting batter in the kitchen.

Dad would take candid photos of us while waiting for his cookies. He took care of the movies and drinks and some surprises to go with the cookies.

There was a time on Valentine's where he brought red stuffed bears for us and left them on the couch. He didn't know that we'd already seen it. We decided to make our cookies special that day and make them red velvet heart-shaped cookies. We watched movies late into the night. Family movies of course.

The twins came a few years later and we all ended up having family bake offs though mom always won. The twins and I would team up or sometimes me and mom and dad on the other. Dad's a better chef than a baker and so he'd always end up laughing and giving up, putting whatever's done into the oven and hoping it turns out fine. They usually do. Just not as great as mom's.

Her recipes and baking skills were so good that she even made a business out of it. Her small bakery is in a small two room building on the corner of our street. Many people come to buy cookies and pies.

My siblings and I try to bake the way she did. So do our employees. But none can compare.

I smile fondly at the silver stone in front of me.

"Everyone misses you. And not just because of your baking. You're such an amazing person." I whisper.

I crouch a bit lower and run a finger over the engraved text.

Madeline Clay

As sweet as a cookie, as special as pie, but more attractive and beautiful in her soul than what meets the eye.

"Every cookie we bake reminds me of you. I hope you're proud of us, watching from above." I add, looking up. "I hope you can make cookies in Heaven. I wonder if you can. I know God'll love them."

I smile as I think about it, baking for God. Do you think it's possible?

I drive home and hug my dad and the twins. It's Thanksgiving tomorrow.

"Who's ready for some baking?" I ask, trying to put on the brave face.

Mom would want me to be brave.

We all head into the kitchen and continue to tradition.

Everything we bake is for her. Every single cookie.