When I'm upset or sad, I bake.
It is an old fashioned thing to do, most un-modern like and very far away from the social service persona that I cultivate most of the week.
But..I love to bake.
Since my children were little I have baked to soothe away hurts, scrapes,
and bruises. Now, I have discovered that I bake to cover the emotional hurts .
Today has been very trying, too many memories, hurts and too many hard tries to be a strong, capable,calm woman. Sometimes, I have to hurt a bit and let sorrow come over me like a warm wool blanket that's seen too many winters.
I am baking at this moment, the smell of cinnamon, vanilla and oats are filling my senses. It's making me remember how it felt when my little daughters pulled at my skirts to get a "bite" of the dough as I shaped cookies. Sugar crunching under our feet, flour flying around the room, vanilla always managing to spill on the table. How wonderful it was in those days to have a pudgy,slighty sticky little hand reach up to me,begging, "mommy please, can we have a taste?"
Today, I'm alone in this kitchen. They are grown women and my husband is working.
I don't mind the solitude very much. The cookies are getting done along with the messy clean-up. No one is driving me to distraction with spills and cries for mediation of small spats between little girls.
Too bad I will have to lick the bowl all by myself. It was a lot more fun when I had to fight for the spoon.
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