It had been a month. But, my heart cried out that it was only yesterday. Raindrops covered the window and slowly trickled down. This morning the weatherman had predicted rain changing to snow this evening. I hope so, I feel as if the world is crying with me and I don’t think I have many more tears. Mom loved snow.
I scooped coffee into the chamber and assembled the old blue speckled percolator. I set it on the stove and turned to face my sister, Jenny. She worked up a small smile and sat down at the table. “It’s hard to believe Mom’s gone,” Jenny said. “I miss her so much.”
I gave her a hug. “We will get through this, I know we will,” I whispered. Grabbing a kleenex from the box on the table, I lowered myself into the other chair.
The percolator began perking. The sound immediately took me back to our childhood home in Oregon. On rainy afternoons Mom would put Postum in the percolator so that my sister and I could enjoy it with her. While we ate our breakfast before school each morning the smell and sound of percolating coffee would waft around the kitchen. Mom would fidget in her chair, waiting impatiently for the coffee to finish. She jokingly said it was the only way she could keep up with us.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“A little, but nothing sounds good,” Jenny responded.
“I dreamed of Mom’s homemade bread last night. I could smell it and taste it,” I sighed, vividly remembering the dream. Continue reading “Baking With Mom”