Sugar-Tinted Memories

Flour dusted across every surface in Kate’s kitchen, turning the inside of her apartment into a winter wonderland. The sharp scent of cinnamon and mixed spice permeated the air, filling her nostrils with a tangy Christmas smell. If only the smell itself could turn into cookies. 

For three hours now, Kate had been smashing and rolling dough, mixing different ingredients together in an attempt to recreate her grandfather’s famous gingerbread cookies. The recipe itself had long been lost, written down only on a scrap piece of paper, either boxed up with her grandfather’s belongings after he had passed or else thrown away on accident. It didn’t truly matter where the recipe had disappeared to, as it would never be found.

Blowing back a piece of her brown hair that had fallen into her line of sight, Kate sighed, knowing she must look quite the sight, covered in flour like a ghost. Sticky dough coated her hands, refusing to be scrubbed off no matter how much soap she rubbed into her skin. Molasses - the bane of her existence.

Perhaps she herself would turn into a gingerbread cookie.

A trill from her cell phone brought her back to reality. Annoyed with the interruption, she attempted to pick up her phone, her touch-based scan refusing her thumbprint time and again. Huffing in frustration, she hissed out a curse. Good thing her mother was not around to hear the words spilling from her lips or else she’d never hear the end of it. 

‘Foul language is for uneducated people,’ she could hear her mother lecture in a disapproving tone. 

Brushing her hands off on her polka-dot apron, Kate pressed down hard on her phone’s screen, punching in her password. With a soft click, her phone unlocked, picking up the call just as Kate saw ‘Gram’ flashing on the screen. 

Drawing in a breath to steady her nerves, she forced a smile into her voice. “Hey, Gram! What’s going on?” Her grandmother had never been the best at calling on a regular basis, excusing herself by saying she didn’t want to interrupt her grandchildren’s lives, as though her existence was only to be remembered when big family events occurred. 

Kate knew she should reach out more often, send a text message at least once per week with a simple ‘thinking of you’ or ‘how are you doing?’, but it was difficult to remember. Out of sight, out of mind. 

For a few moments, her gram’s voice echoed through the phone as she filled Kate in on the Christmas shopping she had completed for her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. “...you know that doll Isabelle wanted? Not a Barbie but that action figure from that new superhero film --” Kate shook her head, glad her grandmother couldn’t see her confusion. 

When there was a pause in the conversation, Kate felt compelled to fill it, though she had little news to share. “I’m trying out grandpa’s old gingerbread recipe,” she brought up the subject with a bit of trepidation, not knowing how her gram would react to hearing about her husband who had passed just a few months prior. 

Kate knew her grandmother was still hurting, though she never complained. 

Silence greeted her announcement, so deep that Kate wondered if her gram had even heard it. “Think I got the ratio wrong,” she continued, rambling now. “You should see my kitchen! Looks like a flour bomb went off in here.” A short laugh, awkward and tense passed her lips. 

“That’s nice, dear,” came a soft voice through the speaker. “Remember not to let them burn,” she advised before saying a hasty goodbye and hanging up the call. 

Kate cringed, hoping she hadn’t just made the day harder for her grandmother. Peeling her fingers from the phone, she set the device on a relatively flour-free portion of the counter, on top of a pile of magazines. 

Head drooping, Kate heaved a heavy sigh, wondering if she should just take a brush and soap to the counters and floor, throw away the rest of the ingredients, and call it a night. Clearly, these cookies were too smart for her. 

“Just like this. See?” her grandfather gently covered Kate’s hands with his own, pushing forward until the rolling pin dug into the dough, stretching it out across the tiled countertop. “You have to show the dough who’s boss,” he chuckled, letting go and watching Kate continue the back and forth motion with the rolling pin. 

Determination creased little Kate’s expression, her hair falling in unruly ringlets down her face. “Like this, grandpa?” she questioned, glancing up at her grandfather with a hopeful look. 

These cookies were a present for the family. Last week, Kate had overheard her parents talking in the living room late at night. Sitting in the middle of the stairs, she could just make out their conversation. Money was tight; Christmas wouldn’t be a big, happy exchange of presents this year, not with her dad being laid off and hitting the streets every day looking for work. 

For days, Kate had thought long and hard about what she could do to make this Christmas special for her parents. In the end, she mentioned her idea to her grandfather. 

“Dear, Katie,” he whispered, kneeling in front of her on the wooden kitchen floor. “You have such a big heart.” Grinning at the compliment, Kate felt happy with her decision, knowing she had made the right choice. 

Now, her grandfather was showing her how to make his super secret gingerbread recipe. The plan was to make enough for two batches of cookies, then call in her parents to show them the surprise. All together, they could decorate the cookies in greens and reds, giving the gingerbread men coats and hats and scarves. 

Christmas might look different this year, but that didn’t have to be a bad thing. 

Blinking back a few tears brimming in her eyes at the memory, Kate gazed down at the brown dough lumped in a ball on the counter. Reaching for the rolling pin, she laid it at the edge of the dough. Pushing down and forward with all the strength she could muster, she began rolling out the dough.

“Don’t let it resist,” she mumbled, repeating her grandfather’s instructions from her childhood. “Keeping pushing forward.” 

Sweat beaded on her brow as she forced the dough into a thin, flat layer. Taking the cookie cutter in hand, a bright green outline of a tree, she pushed the stencil into the dough, creating a perfectly-shaped Christmas tree. 

Humming ‘Carol of the Bells’, Kate continued her work. After cutting the dough into shapes, she laid the cookies out onto a sprayed cookie sheet. Popping the cookies into the oven, she grinned, satisfied with her accomplishment. 

Wiping her sticky hands on her apron, a peace settled in her heart. 

She could only hope her grandfather would be proud. Even if she hadn’t gotten the recipe exactly correct, even if the cookies didn’t end up tasting like much, she had carried on his tradition. 

There was only one thing left to do.

Dialing a number on her phone, she greeted the person on the line quickly. “Hey, Grandma. Want to come over and decorate cookies?”