Hand Me Downs

So, the kids on my street know me as the Cookie Lady.  When I make chocolate chip cookies, I tend to make a double or triple batch and take them door to door to neighbors.  When it gets warm out and kids are playing football in the street, I practically get mobbed.  It’s a great feeling to be surrounded by sweaty kids all excited about homemade cookies.  

Last night, it got loud on the street in front of our house.  you can usually tell by the tone without hearing the words whether it’s happy  loud or tense loud.  This was happy loud, lots of teenagers hanging out having fun, but sounded like it was getting the edge of “tense loud”- teenage boys talking about who could whip who.  Still playful, but it didn’t seem like it could be a bad time to go water my plants and generally add a calm presence and a set of eyes and ears.  It would have been a bad time to jump right into the conversation, but the mood shifted a bit when they saw me and I smiled at a couple of the girls.  No one said anything, then I heard “When you gonna make us some cookies?”  Big grins from Katy.

Cookies and the garden have been my link to the kids (and grownups) on our street.   I love how it’s the little things that start a conversation, some little point of reference.  Who doesn’t like cookies?

 

 

This is from a collection of writings of mine called Remnants, about the cookie connection:

SUGAR  COOKIES

I made a whole bunch of sugar cookies by myself

A baker’s dozen dozens, maybe- a gross and lagniappe

All those pale cookies there, like pages of a new coloring book and me here alone.

 

I peeked out the window- the boys are hanging out.

Fourteen- they’re teenagers now, and have that

“I’m so cool” look, all three together, watching each other’s back

 

They were twelve a day or two ago, and are shakily stepping over the chasm

Recklessly jumping over it in their baggy jeans

And newly long limbs, limber and loose

They get loud and fast a lot, like I do when I’m lost somewhere in the dark

You wanna let the things you can’t see know you’re there

And adolescence is like the Styx sometimes

 

I think, pace, think, think twice again, take a breath

walk out the front door, down the steps, through the gate-

“Hey guys, what’s going on”

“We’re gonna play some football”

“Ohhh- okay- like now?”

“yeah”

Oh.

(silence- ball bouncing- silence- sniff)

“I was just gonna see if you wanted to come over and frost some cookies”

(wait for it…wait for it-don’t let them see you sweat)

Why does putting it out there with fourteen year olds make me nervous?

“oh, YEAH.”

“Can I come too?”

“Can Tony come?”

 

Wash up hands, get out the wax paper,

Sit ‘em down

Add the food coloring

Sprinkles

My urban elves

Playing and making

With frosting and red hots and sprinkles

Each their own way, 144 or so different expressions of the fellas

And two hours of joy

Girls and rap and sugary artwork and a little serious stuff

You know, his mom’s new husband-

I can’t play school league football unless my grades are better

And girls and

Frosting wars, and off they go with cookies

Sprinkles mashed onto my hardwoods, frosting on my velvet upholstery

A million beautiful cookies

And a warm heart

 

 

Tags: cookies, garden, Remnants