Cookie Memories

David watched as the cookies baked in the oven, the mushy dough slowly cooking into a delicious mixture of sugary, chocolate melted goodness. If he was right, this batch would be the one. But as he lifted his gaze up from the oven to the mess of his kitchen top; he sighed in resignation of another failure.

Please. Let this be the right one. It has to be!

The slow pound of a headache beginning to form, made David rub at his head and head to the fridge. He needed a drink, and a cold beer might be what he needed. After getting his beer, David sat at the counter, moving some dough splattered bowls and whisks a bit and opened his cellphone email to read the collection of messages from earlier this week.

Mom:

           Hey sweetie. Wanted to make sure you were attending this years family Christmas Party. Everyone will be here this year, not since Grandma died, and it would be a shame for you not to come this year.

David:

           Yeah mom, I’ll be there. Got the whole week off for work. Anything you want me to bring?

Mom:

           Nothing of importance, but Uncle Jeb said he was bringing his famous buffalo wings and dip. And that turned to a whole thing and now everyone is bringing something to eat. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.

David:

           No, it be wrong to eat everyone else’s work and not bring my own. Since this is the first party with everyone in a long time, I’ll bring cookies like Grandma did. I’ll make them just like she did.

Mom:

           That sounds delicious sweetie. Looking forward to it and see you this weekend.

Love Mom.

David sighed, rubbing his head, and took a long drink from his beer. Though he sounded so confident in his messages, the truth was that he was starting to realize that saying something and doing something was entirely opposite. The ding of the oven only made his apprehension worse as he moved and worked to get the now baked cookies from the oven.

“Please. Please.” He begged, setting them down and giving the cookies a few moments to cool.

Once he felt the cookies were cool enough, David took one and slowly took a bite. It tasted like a chocolate cookie, but he tossed it away as it did not taste like how grandma had made them.

“Son of-!” David swore, and threw the whole tray off the countertop in a fit of rage as he slammed his hands on the counter, “Why can’t I get it right!?!”

David hit the counter again, as he cursed himself for saying that he would bake cookies like Grandma. He thought he could recall the recipe by heart; after all he had spent so many years with Grandma in the kitchen when he was younger. So why? Why was this so damned hard?!

David sighed, and slid to the ground and curled his knees to his chest as he began to feel a deep sadness rooting up from his heart. Out of all his relatives, his grandmother had been the one he loved the most. A sweet old thing, who even in her twilight years, kept to many of her old traditions suck as annual gatherings of the family and always baking fresh baked goods. She would always have the children help her in the kitchen, and David had done his own part to help.

David smiled, remembering this sweet innocent days of his youth, and as he took a deep breath, he thought he could smell the scents of grandma’s cooking once more in the kitchen; and her sweet, kind voice directing her cadre of little helpers. But the memory faded as David stood up and looked at the mess of cookies ruined upon the floor.

“I need a break.”

David took his drink to the living room and flopped onto the couch with a groan. He drank and stared up at the ceiling as the initial memories began a flood of more to come back. When David had been younger, he always wanted to cook with his grandmother, but as the years went by, he started to get that rebellious phase boys always seemed to go through. Cooking was not cool, as he told his grandma once when he turned fourteen.

Instead of helping, David spent more time to his phone, or the internet. Sometimes, when his mother threatened to take his phone, he would go back to helping his grandmother in the kitchen; but David had started to just cancel out anything said other then specific orders to fetch this or help cut this. The time he wasted helping cook stupid cookies or cupcakes with a bunch of little kids, was a hinderance to him as he thought in those years.

But even this did not seem to bother his grandmother, who always still praised him and smiled even when he moaned and groaned at having to help cook. And even if he did nothing at all, his grandmother would kiss his cheek and say oh wonderful a helper he was and she couldn’t wait till next year to cook with him again.

David covered his eyes, “God. I was such a stupid prick.”

The memories of his teenage years flooded back. His constant want to get away from his family, to ignore helping his grandmother in the kitchen during the parties. And as he got older, it only seemed to grow worse. College had taken him away from almost four years of family get togethers, and work more. His mother would complain to him, saying how his absence had really hurt his grandmother; and he would always say there was always next year.

Until there was no longer a next year. When his grandmother died, David realized that he would never be able to talk or cook with his grandmother again. All those years, just thrown away. David wiped at his eyes, fighting back tears as he took another long drink, only to realize he had finished his beer.

David growled, and went for another and then another. Slowly he became conscious to the fact that he was now drowning himself in alcohol as the memories came back, and the weight of the promise he was failing to keep all came at him at once.

“Damn it!” He swore, tossing the bottle and making it shattered against the wall, “Why? Why didn’t I try harder? I kept saying I’d see her again next year, and now I can’t ever again!”

David felt the tears burst like water from a dam as he curled up on his couch, sobbing. How many years could he have had with his grandmother, if he had just stopped being a prick when he was younger? If he had not focused so hard on school and work? If only…

But there was no point in focusing on what ifs. David decided to just lay there, until sleep claimed him and ceased his sobbing. His mind entered darkness, but in the distance, David thought he saw light.

A sweet, humming of a familiar tune, was coming from the light. David looked toward it, and thought he saw a figure standing in the center. A figure that grew more familiar as he approached.

“Grandma?”

David found himself running now to the light, as the figure of his grandmother turned and smiled at him. David fell, gasping for air when he finally stood before the small, thin form of his grandmother who kneeled to hug him.

“David. Look how big you’ve grown. Such a handsome young man.”

David bit his lip and threw his arms around his grandmother, “Grandma!”

“What’s this? Is everything alright?” David’s grandmother asked, “Tell granny what’s wrong.”

David choked back a sob, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m sorry I was such a little shit! I sorry I didn’t try harder to come to your family gatherings on Christmas!”

David choked and sobbed, hugging his grandmother tighter as all the pain poured out. His grandmother said nothing, only hugging him tighter and gently rubbing the back of his head.

“Oh sweetie. There, there.”

The ghost of his grandmother pushed David away a bit and met his eyes with the same warm smile and eyes so full of love David felt his heart being torn out. He didn’t deserve that.

“Oh David. I know you were simply trying to make us all proud. I did feel sad, knowing I couldn’t see you. But I always knew that you were working so hard and I was so proud of you. I still am.”

David sniffled, wiping at his face with the back of his hand, “I don’t feel proud. I can’t even remember how to bake a bunch of stupid cookies.”

David sniffled and covered his face, even as his grandmother wrapped him up in another hug.

“Oh David. Sweet David. You will get it right. I showed you how to make those cookies myself. You just need to clear your head.”

“But-“David started, but his grandmother cut him off.

“No buts!” She said, “There isn’t a better cookie helper I had then you. Now, clear those bad thoughts from your mind and get back in there. I’ll be right beside you, believe me.”

David sniffled, but felt a smile grow even as the light flared all about him and everything vanished.

“Grandma!”

David shouted, starting from the couch and he looked around. He was back in his living room, alone. Slowly getting up, David looked around but saw no sign of her.

“Just a dream?” He asked, feeling disappointed.

No! Don’t think like that.

David shook his head, wiped his nose and eyes and looked to the kitchen. He stood straight and marched back into the kitchen. He was going to get this right, this time he knew. Somehow, he just knew.

For several hours, David worked to make as many cookies as he could. As he worked, he felt like he was back in the kitchen with his grandmother; standing right beside him to tell him how to make cookies as she had before.

And when he finished the first batch and taste tested them. He felt his whole spirit light up as he remembered this same excellent taste from so long ago.

He finally got it right.

David could not help but smile, but he did not let this wonderful moment make him lazy. He had a party to cook for, and he was going to cook enough cookies to feed the entire family. A momentary survey of his kitchen though did raise a few issues.

“Gonna need to buy more flour.” David said to himself, laughing.

With another cookie in hand, David threw on his jacket and got his wallet. But as he headed toward the door to go buy more supplies, he paused at the small table by his front door, where several pictures stood. There, in the center was a large picture of him as a small child, hugging his Grandmother as she plopped some cookie dough on his nose.

David smiled, and set the cookie beside the picture.

“Thanks Grandma.” He said, smiling.