|Three generations: my Grandma, my Mom,|
But that didn't mean much to us, her six grandchildren. What mattered to us was her love, given freely in hugs, a listening ear and thankful heart, and her homemade chocolate chip cookies! The best I've ever had...probably because they were baked with so much love!
I treasure my copy of her recipe, carefully written in her own handwriting. It makes me feel all warm and safe inside to see her precise lettering - I'm a little girl again, at her side in her retro kitchen.
And tonight in my kitchen, it was almost as if she was here with me as I leveled off the flour in the measuring cup with the back of a butter knife, just like she taught me. But in reality I was creating new memories, as I let my grandson help stir the chocolate chips into the batter and lick the spoon.
Every year I try to make up a batch of her cookies on the anniversary of her death or on her birthday. But they never taste quite as good as hers did!
Tomorrow, my grandson and I will have the cookies with some milk.
And we'll look at old photos of Great-Great Grandma, whom he never met.
And we'll probably read If You Give A Mouse A Cookie.
And laugh and laugh.
My Grandma would love it!
And she'll laugh too, as she watches from Heaven.