Every November I struggle around the time of my Mom’s birthday. She has been gone for over three years. She lived a long full life. That being said, I miss her and think of her often.
In addition, the November days are short in the Pacific Northwest. The dark seems to come earlier and earlier as each day passes. This also adds to my melancholy.
Rather, than waste the evening in front of the TV, I decided to do something productive in the hopes that it would brighten my mood. I pulled out a few cookbooks and found her“Best Ever Bran Muffin” recipe.
The page in the cookbook was splattered with batter; the result of many years of use. Her handwriting was in several of the side margins as she modified some of the recipes. After compiling the ingredients, I placed the muffin tins in the oven. It wasn’t too long before the house was filled with the comforting aroma of homemade baking.
Suddenly, I was flooded with memories of growing up. I would come home from school and the house was filled with the scent of her baking efforts. Mom would sit with me as we shared a muffin and a cup of tea. I would tell her about my day.
As I went on to have a family of my own, she would visit often and spend many hours in my kitchen baking cookies and cakes to satisfy my always hungry boys. She would laugh as they would come home from school and run immediately into the kitchen to grab what was on the cooling rack.
Finally, in the latter part of her life, it was me who would bake and take over the various cookies and muffins. I enjoyed those times, We would sit at her kitchen table spreading tons of butter on our freshly baked treats. I would tell her about my work or the new job that her grandson started.
I have baked many types of delicious treats over the years. I never can pull out a cookbook without thinking about my mom. She taught me many tricks on how to make my goodies moist and light. Most importantly, I will always remember the conversations we shared as we enjoyed our tea and muffins together.
It may be a dark Saturday night in November, but I felt my Mom’s presence as I pulled the muffins out of the oven. I am thankful that I have a memory of love and acceptance.
Thank you , Mom, for giving me your Just Muffin cookbook.