Notes To You #3

Disaster has struck. I can hear bells ringing in the distance and not the happy kind. I breathe heavily. My face has reached the ground. The only thing keeping me upright are my hands balancing my weight on the bed. I cannot look sideways into the kitchen. I dare not look into the kitchen because I cannot face those big black eyes. I just stay in my room staring at my feet. I burnt the cookies.

I burnt them Chocolate Chip Cookies. And with me as chef, it’s always extra chocolate chips in everything (So much for good luck.) But how could this happen? I was so much more careful than usual. Re-read recipe, rechecked temperatures, rethought strategy, revised the plan, rearranged all ingredients, reweighed sugar and flour and replayed ‘Oops, I Did It Again’….. I think that’s where I went wrong.

Being stuck with burnt cookies is undue. Sorry, being stuck with 28 burnt cookies is undue. No one deserves it and I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy because it feels horrible. Here a cookie, a symbol of love and joy, a means to mending ties, a weapon to break the most stubborn. “Want a cookie?” always works. The treat that crumbles in your hands can crumble down temperamental walls. And now a burnt cookie, a mock in your face.

This is unkind and I feel ghastly. Tears shall be shed. In fact, I’m writing this post because tears have been shed. Overly emotional, you say? Well, you burn cookies and tell me if you turn out happily ever after. Happiness is…. not a burnt cookie.

Now what do I do? I call for help, of course.

“They’re perfect.”

“They’re burnt.”

 

“I like them.”

“You’re just saying that because you like me.”

 

“You’re still a good baker.”

“Burnt. Cookies.”

 

“It’s fine! It’s absolutely okay.”

“There are 28, Kay.”

“…. Oh. We still love you.”

 

They love me. What more could I ask for when you’ve got family and friends washing down burnt cookies with milk, crumbling them onto ice-cream and tentatively allowing you back into the kitchen. I feel a little better.

And as for you, taking out time to share in my grief, you shall not leave empty handed. Yes oh yes, I have something for you apart from appreciation and virtual hugs. Anyone who can correctly count the number of times I’ve mentioned ‘burnt cookies’ in this post wins a burnt cookie.

 

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