I’m trapped in a box where I don’t know what to write, this week, because I don’t want some sullen-mood post bringing you down! Instead, I offer you a brain purge of randomness about my grandma. I'm beyond grateful for the past year because grandma moved down to Florida and I was able to have more visits with her. Something grandma and I had in common: major sweet tooth. Recently, at some holiday gathering, grandma was talking about how much she loved dessert and my comment back was that it must be hereditary. The line of us, me/mom/grandma, love dessert, and a day isn’t done without a treat. Visits to New York to see grandma weren’t complete without white package boxes tied up in red and white string filled to the brim with Italian cookies. The crumbly butter cookies with array of colors and toppings brought everyone to the table in grandma’s kitchen. The ones with the jam in the middle, half dipped in chocolate with sprinkles are my absolute FAVORITE! At that same table we’d share black and white cookies, bagels with butter and sandwiches fresh from the deli, all NY must eats. I remember a few years ago, grandma was shuffling about the kitchen emptying the contents of the fridge, which still adorned photos of me as a kid and “#1 Grandma” magnets, in front of me insisting I needed a snack. She handed me a Snapple (the North really needs to work on their tea game) and an assortment of Little Debbie snack cakes. She was never shy about taking a piece of every dessert at the table and she adored cookies. On one of her last days, while in the hospital, she asked mom to get her a package of cookies and hide them so no one else could find them.
The lesson, dear friends, about life and death is that time is precious, love is vast and there is always room for dessert. Love and cookies, grandma! We miss you!