Cat Food, Instant Coffee and Self Rising Yeast



It was windy on this particular day in May. The early morning traffic seemed unusually light in spite of the Mother's Day holiday that was only just a few days away.

I pulled into my regular parking space outside the advertising company I work for. I smiled, looking at the company name in big, bold letters across the picture window. Edgar, Phillips & Associates.

My father was James Allen Edgar III. One of the most recognized gentlemen in his field. To this day; no one in the advertising industry could hold a candle to him. He built this company from the ground up and didn't take in partnership until the firm was at least ten years old. You can still find him sitting behind his desk smoking a cigar.

And me? My name is Rochelle Nancy Edgar.

I get out of my sedan just as another brisk wind lifts my skirt up. I laugh out loud, fumbling my briefcase and my thermos full of coffee. The thermos hits the ground rolling. I grab up my briefcase and chase after the rolling silver tumbler.

The chill in the air makes the hair on my arms rise up and I give a slight shake as I grip the thermos in my right hand. Four years of college basketball I give credit to for my swiftness and my agility. Four years of blood, sweat and tears is the best way to describe those college days. Between studies and the court there was little room for much of anything else. My father was adament about me maintaining my GPA if I were to play ball; just as I was passionate about the sport.

Summers between semesters; I practiced morning, noon and night. I practically lived on our court. I ended most evenings poolside doing laps at the family estate. Bob Marley played throughout the house on surround sound and over the loud speakers that were strategically located in the backyard. The kitchen crew blended fruit smoothies and protein shakes for me knowing I had to maintain a healthy system.

I did everything I could to excel for my father and my coach over those four years and it all paid off in the long run. I was awarded MVP three years in a row; all except my senior year; for reasons I need not mention. And my father gave me a pretty decent position with the firm. My father, my coach and I were all very pleased on the day I graduated.

I managed to enter the building quick enough to avoid the next gust of wind that rattled the picture window so hard it made me and the receptionist gasp.

"It's been like this all morning," Suzanne remarked, as she handled me my mail and my messages.

"I hope it doesn't keep up like this for the weekend. I would like to open up the pool Saturday afternoon." I randomly replied walking into my office.

After getting settled in and returning a few calls, I was able to focus on making a few appointments for later on that day. The three o'clock hour came fast and I gathered my belongings and made my way to the front door. Suzanne smiled at me and wished me good luck as I closed the door behind me.

The wind still hadn't let up. As I hurriedly walked to my car something caught my attention from the corner of my eye. I turned in it's direction and saw a piece of pink paper caught in a whirlwind. I watched it fly around for a second or two before I lunged towards it and grabbed it mid air.

It was some kind of list. A shopping list of sorts. It only had three items on it and an address for delivery. But no name. My interest piqued as I entered the address into my GPS on my phone.

I couldn't concentrate at all at the appointments I had made. And my imagination ran wild trying to conjure up an image of the author.

The three items went in circles in my mind until I couldn't take it anymore. Cat food, instant coffee and self rising yeast. Cat food, instant coffee and self rising yeast. Cat food, instant coffee and self rising yeast.

I stopped at the first grocery store I saw and purchased all three items on the list.

The fact that the list was written on pink paper led me to believe that the author maybe female. The address that was scribbled down was on the lower East side of town where many of our community's older residents resided. Cat food was pretty self explanatory as was the instant coffee. But the self rising yeast was the one item that struck me the most. Maybe she has a lot of children and bakes on the weekends. Maybe she runs an animal shelter. Maybe she isn't a she and I have it all wrong.

With the note in one hand and the grocery items in the other, I cautiously approached the front door to the address on the slip. I rang the house bell several times and was just about to turn back to the car when I heard the door slowly creep open.

"May I help you?" Said a very soft voice from the other side of the door. The older woman held the door opened firmly inspite of the wind. I flashed the pink paper at her and gave the bag a small shake and heard the door open more aggressively this time.

She introduced herself simply as Rachel. And I didn't press it any further. I explained how I happened upon the shopping list on the pink paper and we both laughed in unison.

She invited me in and offered me coffee and toast. She asked if I could stay for a bit and as intrigued as I was I just couldn't say no. I accepted the invitation and found myself fascinated by her character.

Underneath an old, white baker's apron, Rachel wore a long plaid shirt that dusted the floor. On top she wore a patchwork sweater that was thin and worn by time. Her grey hair was swept up and pinned into a bun. She must be right around the age my mother would have been if she were still alive today. Her cheeks were rosy and her smile so wide. Her breath smelled like peppermint and her voice; soft and comforting.

I watched her lips as she kept repeating my last name ever so slowly, over and over again. It seemed as if she were trying to recall where she may have heard it before.

"Edgar," she said softly. "Edgar, yes, I remember now. There was a Nancy in my graduating class that married a boy with the last name Edgar. Yes, they made a handsome couple; Nancy and John, Nancy and Justin...no, it was indeed Nancy and James. Yes! James Allen Edgar."

I heard myself gasp at the mention of my mother's name after all these years. I explained to Rachel that was my mother and father she remembered. She smiled, taking my hand in hers.

She asked of their welfare and I was reluctant to elaborate. But then it dawned on me. She must know of the accident. For they were childhood friends! I slowly unraveled what I could remember of that grim day. Small details of what I remembered of my mother. Rachel held my hand through it all and added what she remembered.

Talking about my mother's passing and the accident that took her from me gave me a sense of closure. It also lightened me somewhat if that makes any sense. I felt years of tension rise up from my shoulders. Rachel was so comforting I found I was able to share so much more with her.

We talked for hours and hours that afternoon. I told her of my father's noble accomplishments. My very influential position with my father's firm. And about my four years at University and even basketball.

Rachel talked about her losses and friendships. She talked of first loves and the neighborhood children who visit. About being lonely on holidays. And she talked about her and my mother; how the teachers in school named them the "boppsey twins" because of their black hair and matching blue eyes.

Rachel and I created a forever bond that afternoon; one that with time, would never be broken.

We agreed to meet again for coffee and toast. But right before I was leaving it struck me.

"Rachel, I am going to send a car for you for Sunday dinner at our families estate. Sunday is Mother's Day and I'd be honored to have you as our guest."

"Rochelle, darling, thank you so very much! Indeed, it shall be delightful. Sunday it is. I couldn't think of a more proper way to celebrate the day."

And Rachel, smiling contently, closed the door quietly. Finally, after all these years, she felt as if a chapter of her life had been completed.

And at the same time, Rochelle got into her sedan and paused for thought. Finally, a few questions answered and a few chapters closed.

A new beginning for both Rachel and Rochelle, and to think it all started with that little shopping list on that pink piece of paper.