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"All right, we are going to go downstairs and get dinner started. You get settled." Mom grabbed hold of me and kissed my forehead. "I cannot believe that you are actually here. Your father is right, what an amazing Christmas gift." She squeezed me hard and finally let me go and looked down at all my luggage on the floor. I could tell she wanted to ask about all the luggage I had brought, but she didn't say anything. She just quietly closed the door to my bedroom, Dad following behind her, and left me to unpack.
* * *
The next afternoon,I sat in the kitchen with a warm cup of hot chocolate in front of me while watching my mother roam around gathering ingredients for the next batch of cookies she planned to make.
"Did you want any mini marshmallows in that?" she held up a bag of the little multicolored marshmallows I loved.
"Sure."
She handed me the bag and continued searching the pantry for ingredients, placing the containers of cinnamon, nutmeg, and sugar down in front of me, then she began pouring ingredients into a bowl. It had always amazed me how my mother could bake. She made it look completely effortless. The woman very rarely used a recipe, often pulling the ingredients from some mental cookbook. I had no idea how she did it, but every single item she baked turned out perfectly. I certainly didn't have her talent. Not one thing I had ever tried to bake in my lifetime had turned out.
I dumped in a handful of marshmallows, stirred them into the hot liquid, Mom glancing at me every now and again.
"So, Lex, it's not that I’m not happy to have you home, but what gives?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, finishing topping off my mug with more marshmallows.
"Lexi, I'm not stupid. You brought all your bags home," she said, waving my grandmother’s wooden spoon at me then stirring up the mixture in the bowl. She claimed it was all because of that wooden spoon that everything turned out the way it did.
"Mom, you’re acting as if I never come home. I was just here a few months ago."
Mom stopped what she was doing and looked at me, studying me, trying to read between the lines.
"Really, Mom, I'm fine. Everything is fine. I was just really missing home," I said, bringing the mug to my lips and sipping the now super-sweet chocolate marshmallow mixture.
"Lexi, you were home over thirteen months ago." Just as Mom went to say something else, the oven timer went off, signaling that the batch of cookies in the oven was finished, changing her train of thought. She bent down and removed the tray, then slid the cookies off onto a cooling rack before sliding the next sheet of cookies into the oven. The smell of chocolate chips filled the air, which made my mouth water. When she turned around to put more doughballs onto the baking sheet, I snagged one of the fresh hot cookies from the rack.
"Ouch," I let out as I inhaled a breath, the hot chocolate burning my fingers.
"Lex, careful, those are hot," Mom scolded as I bit into the hot, soft cookie. It fell from my hand onto the kitchen island, breaking into two pieces. I gave her the same smile I probably had when I was five after stealing hot cookies from the cooling rack. I picked up a piece of the cookie and popped it into my mouth. One thing I never had to worry about: Mom cleaned better than she cooked. That cookie could have fallen onto the floor and I would have eaten it.
"What are you making now?" I asked, nosing into the bowl in front of me.
"Sugar cut-outs," Mom said as she moved the cooling rack over by the stove, no doubt so I wouldn't eat all the cookies before they had cooled. "Want to pick out the cutters?" she asked, handing me the familiar dented and scratched red tin that she stored the cookie cutters in.
I lifted the lid and started searching through the tin for my favorite ones, while Mom started adding ingredients. "Oh, Mom, I could really use a new bed," I said, pulling out a Christmas tree-shaped cutter. The bed I had was old, and even though it held all the familiar dips in the mattress, it was much smaller than what I was used to.
Mom stopped what she was doing and looked at me and laughed. "Lex, whatever is up with you, promise me you will tell me when you know. As for a new bed, we'll see what we can do okay." She sighed, picking up that wooden spoon again and began stirring what would eventually become the sugar cutout batter.
"Mom...how many times must I tell you, nothing is wrong."
"I know my children, Lex. Something isn't right. I'm not going to pry or force you to tell me. So, just promise me that when you have figured it out, you'll share."
I ignored what my mother said, picked up the last piece of cookie from the counter, and popped it in my mouth as I continued picking out the cutters. Once I had the ones I wanted, I continued watching as Mom mixed in ingredients and stirred, every now and again checking on the cookies that were in the oven. How she knew something was up when I couldn't even explain what was going on with me was beyond me, but she did know her children, I would give her that.
Truth was, I didn't know why I had such a strong urge to come home. Perhaps it was because it was Christmas and my least favorite time of the year to be alone, or something greater had pulled me here which I had yet to understand. Whatever it was, I was content to be here.
The familiar sounds of the washing machine, the smell of the cinnamon, apple, cranberry concoction Mom had boiling on the stove to make the house smell more Christmassy, or the welcoming feeling of home as I stood in the driveway… Whatever it was, I was just happy to be sitting in the kitchen, drinking hot chocolate and eating the best warm chocolate chip cookies in the world.
Chapter 6
Drew
"Hungry?"I asked, holding up a bag of sour cream and onion chips as Zach pulled the car from the gas station parking lot and back out onto the highway.
"Starving. Open those up."
I clicked my seatbelt into place first, and then peeled open the bag of chips. I took two chips and shoved them into my mouth before setting the bag in between us on the console. Zach reached in and took a couple as well, while I pulled back the tabs on the two cans of pop I had bought.
