I woke up today with an absolutely overwhelming urge to bake cookies. Not just any cookies, mind you, but the cookies of my childhood. My Great Grandma’s chocolate chip cookies. I can’t explain the overwhelming feeling that I had to make these. It sounds crazy, but it’s almost like my great grandma was telling me to bake them. Pushing me. I haven’t made these cookies in years – not because I’ve forgotten about them but because the recipe is finicky and I never seem to get it right. I either never get them small enough, or I bake them too long… something always goes wrong.
I had to fight back tears as I mixed the dough, dropped it on the sheet, and baked them. And then I stood there wondering what the hell is wrong with me that I’m crying over some chocolate chip cookies. And it became even weirder as, while they baked, I looked her obituary up online to discover that her birthday is coming up. She would have been 100 on Wednesday, though she died the day before her 82nd birthday in 1997. I was in 7th grade.
I have so many emotions today surrounding her and these cookies. And I can’t even remotely explain it. Why? Why today, why these cookies, why, when there’s nothing in my life that has reminded me of her lately, this absolute need to bake them?
And wouldn’t you know it… today, of all days, the cookies came out absolutely perfect. Not too big, not too small. Not over done or under done. Just absolutely perfect. I don’t know that I believe in spirits and whatnot, but I kinda feel like Great Grandma was looking out for me today on the baking front. And like maybe she wanted some cookies.