To read an excerpt from the book, please click on the following link:

ashaveilbook.blogspot.com


Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Cookies

I made a certain type of sugar cookie today for the first time in nearly a year; the last person I made them for was M.  Most of the recipes I made for M. I have avoided--cooking for him was something I truly loved to do.  In the last six months or so, I got very ill and was not able to cook as much.  On the very last day I saw him, I decided to bake a batch of sugar cookies.  The last cookies I had made, with juice from lemons off his mother's tree (the very last of them, as the family had sold the house) were  not very good, so I wanted to make these perfect.  They baked to a very nice brown and I took them over on my favorite serving plate, a cream-colored one with pink morning glory vines painted around the rim.  I had no idea that I would never get that plate back, nor my flowered dishes I had bought (for which I have matching cups, but no plates--I use white ones from Cost Plus) nor my antique French tablecloth, or anything else.  I realize I said I didn't want them, but I really did. There was so much I said in anger that I wish I had not.  Sometimes people look back on these times and wish they could erase everything they said. I was traumatized and ill, and felt like the one constant, the one person whose hand I could metaphorically hold dropped mine...but the truth is, I let go also, when I should have waited.  Losing such a deep friendship is sad beyond measure.

Today Thistle and I made the cookie recipe again.  She is growing up. On Friday, I will adopt her.  I think you be proud of how well I have done this year, M.  I am well now, though I will never go back to my job again.  You would, I know, be proud of the book I am writing, even though I know you'd have given me a concerned warning about delving into the most shadowed material I have ever worked with.  That I can write this story and not have it derail the healing I have done emotionally, seems a testimony to how far I have come in a year.

One day, when you are not angry at me, whenever that is, however long that takes, I hope perhaps to tell you all these things.