My mother has been dead for a very long time. She died when I was a little girl. I hardly remember anything about her but I do remember her oatmeal cookies. I have nothing of hers except for this recipe box. It's a weird experience to lose a mother so young. I've spent my life wondering who she was and what she was like. Mother's Day is always especially sad. I still carry the wounds of having to make things in school for Mother's Day knowing I had no one to give them to. And though I have few memories of her, I remember the day she got this box. She was a den mother for the cub scouts and one of the boys brought her this box and a recipe holder (long gone) as a thank you to her. I don't remember his name but his mom's name was Dorothy. I was about 4 years old.
In retrospect, I think having her recipe box is the best thing I could have ended up with. I don't make many of her recipes, I don't remember her being a very good cook.
She did bake good cookies though. Yesterday I pulled out this recipe to make oatmeal cookies for my future DIL. I looked at this old recipe card and smiled thinking about my mother making these same cookies. I assume the stains on the card are from her. A very long time ago she stood in our kitchen on a day much like yesterday and made these same cookies.
I have made these cookies too many times to count.
Life is so strange. I wonder if she imagined that a daughter who she hardly knew would be baking her recipe 60 years later.
So much for nostalgia. My eggs were too big and the cookies came out looking like Teddy puke.
I almost threw them out but I gave them to my future DIL along with a big apology. Being the sweet girl that she is, she thanked me profusely and said they were delicious and amazing. I love this girl! Life goes on, eh?