Cookies

“Mother, are you listening to me?”

“You know I am. I always have.”

“Do you remember what things were like when I was young?”

“Of course I do. I think about those things every day.”

“There was one time I remember sitting in the kitchen with you while you were making cookies. It was so warm. You told me that the secret of the cookies was that they were made with love. Then you told me that if there’s one thing in the world that’s truly important, it’s love. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Honey. I still believe that. The secret to making great cookies has always been love. You get back what you put in.”

“What happens when you put in all the love in the world and you know you won’t ever get it back?”

“Well, Son, love keeps giving. It may not seem like you’re getting it back, but in some way you are.”

“I’d like to believe that. I’ve had my doubts lately though.”

“Doubts are natural to a point, but in the long run, it’s better to love than to doubt. If only because it helps to ground you and keep your outlook clear.”

“Mother, can I have one of your cookies?”

“You can have a cookie. You can have all the cookies you want. I bet they put your mind at ease.”

“You know…they do…they really do. It seems like every time I have one of your cookies the world seems like a better place. I guess it must be all the love.”

“See, I told you.”

“Well, it’s either that, or you’re trying to fatten me up.”

“I’ve often thought of having you for dinner.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I thought it was.”

“You know something.”

“What?”

“I never realized how calm and silent this room was at this time of day.”

“That’s why I always preferred it.”

“I can see why. It’s so calm…so eerily peaceful.”

“I wouldn’t call it eerie. I can see why it might feel that way, though. It’s that time right before dawn. The land is ready for the change, but we aren’t. It’s something about the grayness rolling over the land.”

“Mom, I’m sorry for all the awful things I did. I’m glad you were so supportive, so ready to take my side unconditionally. I appreciate that beyond what I can express.”

“You never did anything awful. You made mistakes, but we all do that. That’s what mothers do. We are unconditionally there. You should have another cookie, dear.”

“I’ll gladly take one. I mean it. I can never repay you for what you’ve given me.”

“I never asked to be repaid. My reward is seeing who you are now, this moment.”

“It seems like these moments are spread too far apart. I wish they could be more frequent.”

“They can and will be. You don’t know how much I look forward to them.”

“Mother, I miss you more than anything.”

“Son, rest in peace.”