We pretty much ate the whole loaf, standing around the counter with babies on our hips and butter dripping off our finger tips. It was so worth it. Hot homemade bread is a healer, a uniter, and a big ‘i love you’ in this house.
My kitchen aid mixer turned out two loaves of bread and 16 dozen milk cookies this weekend. 15 dozen cookies went out to Mamas working to build their supplies for their own babies and for little ones that they are pumping and donating to. It’s amazing how many of my memories are food tied. That silver work horse was the last Christmas gift I got from my grandma before she passed away, five years ago. I can’t pull a cookie or loaf from the oven without taking a minute to think of her and all the pancakes I ate at her kitchen table. The pringles and carrot sticks we ate on Friday nights. And the baby sitting she gave that turned into my sitting with her to make sure she had dinner, and all the calories we could muster up to offer her. Of the endless root beer floats we shared and Basketball games we cheered to the TV. Of her knobby hands holding mine and smiling huge grin each time she saw me come through her dining room and to her spot on the couch. I miss her so much. I know she is sitting around a table, enjoying angle food cake in heaven with all of her sisters. Laughing about nothing… loudly.
I love you Bakka. Thinking of you today. It helps that Charlie is wearing his Sonic’s t-shirt, we’re still rooting for ‘your boys’.