Writer’s Block
Who knew so much harm could come to a batch of cookies?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR Joan Almond is a Canadian writer and self-taught photographer. Mentored by Dan Needles and Joe Kertes, she has been encouraged to follow the “heart” in her writing. The Recipe Keeper is the first in a series of stories Joan wrote in 2018. For 102 days, the author wrote 102 short stories; each inspired by her mother’s recipe collection. A proud supporter of the Canadian Society of Children’s Authors, Illustrators and Performers, Joan’s great joy is reading Canadian children’s literature. Joan is grateful to award-winning author Marilyn Helmer, who encouraged her to submit her work to Our Canada.
Ican’t believe it,” Sam said out loud. “I just bought those gloves.” She lifted the cushions on the couch. Nothing. “Arctic air moving in,” she said while slipping on her boots. “With severe weather warnings and I lose my gloves.”
Christmas lunch was at noon and Sam was bringing her grandmother’s Butterscotch Delights, per her niece’s request. Sam’s mother had passed away and everyone was doing their best to cope with it. Thankfully, thoughts of the Christmas season made everyone grateful.
“It’s a curse,” she said. “I find a great pair of gloves and the next thing I know they get swallowed up by the snow monster.” Usually this happened with one glove but in Sam’s case it was both. She wondered why she even bothered.
“At least I don’t lose hats,” Sam said as she shoved a blue toque on her head.
Opening her refrigerator, Sam grabbed a container full of cookies. Butterscotch Delights were her grandmother’s sweetest recipe, cooked on the stove with sugar, butterscotch bits, sweetened condensed milk and rice cereal. It was a seemingly simple recipe. At Christmas, the cookies were made with a green and red rice cereal. Sam’s first batch ran all over the cookie sheet, the second batch was hard as rocks but by her third kick at the can, the Christmas sweet was starting to look familiar.
“Perhaps Grandma was more experienced,” she thought to herself. Sam recalled the cookie tins in her grandmother’s refrigerator always being full. She paid careful attention to her grandchildren. If anyone voiced a desire for a type of cookie, they’d appear in the colourful tins—like magic.
“I think she made cookies while everyone else slept,” laughed Sam as she grabbed her keys.
Before locking the door, Sam put on her warm wool coat, to help combat the winter storm. “Hi Sam,” said her neighbour at the elevator. “Headed out this stormy day, are you?”
“Yes,” Sam answered.
“I see you’re headed to the laundry room.”
“Yep,” he said.
“My kids are coming over later.”
“Sounds nice,” she said as they reached the first floor.
“Well, Merry Christmas,
Sam,” he said. “Maybe you’ll get some gloves in your stocking.”
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Burnside,” she smiled. “Then I can lose them by New Year’s,” she whispered to herself, as the frigid air whipped across her face.
Sam was not a negative person by any means, but experience was working against her.
She reached her car on the far side of the parking lot and, after a couple of tries, the engine started. Sam got back out and brushed the snow from the car as the clock was ticking to make it on time.
“Better grab a coffee somewhere,” she said to herself. “It’s not a road trip without coffee. The drive-thru will be quick; nobody’s out today.” She was right. “Stormy one!” said the sta person handing Sam her coee. “Drive safe! Merry Christmas.”
Sam nodded, rolling up the window and turning up the heat.
It was snowing harder by now and most of her trip was on country roads, but at least the trac was light.
“Thank God for heated seats,” she thought as the heat started to kick in.
Sam’s daily routine had her famished by eleven o’clock these days. The cookie container sat on the seat beside her.
“My niece will never notice one cookie gone from the tin,” she said to herself.
Keeping her eyes on the road she lifted the lid and reached in for a cookie.
The Christmas sweet was gone in two bites. When made well, a Butterscotch Delight was small.
The snow was not letting up. She turned on the wipers and took a deep breath. The stress of winter driving was getting to her and she felt a headache coming on.
Without thinking, she reached inside the tin for another cookie and took a sip of coee.
The road was winding which didn’t make the driving any easier. She slowed to ten miles per hour. A couple more cookies lost to the ravages of the winter storm! By now, Sam wasn’t thinking straight and the combination of caffeine, sugar and the snowstorm was having an adverse eect.
The car swerved on an icy patch as it climbed a hill; another cookie bit the dust.
In a sugary haze, Sam remembered the M.O. of her grandmother’s Butterscotch Delights. One cookie was never enough!
She put on her emergency flashers in the whiteout conditions. A truck passed her kicking up snow and blinding her for a moment.
In the next moment, something Sam didn’t expect happened. Everything cleared up. Perfect visibility and dry roads. “Thank God,” Sam said looking down at the container of cookies. “Maybe just one more to celebrate.”
She reached her hand into the tin, but it was empty.
“What?” Sam said out loud. “How did that happen?”
She turned onto the country road that led home. Sam was disappointed in herself.
“A whole tin of cookies!” she said out loud. “My niece was looking forward to them this Christmas.”
As she approached the farm where her family was gathered, Sam steered the car up the driveway and her niece ran out of the house.
“Thank goodness you’re here, Aunt Sam,” she said. “We heard about the storm on the news. You must be exhausted.”
“It was quite the ordeal,” Sam answered, carrying the empty tin into the house.
Christmas dinner was on the table and was amazing as always. Then it was time for dessert.
“I want to confess something,” said Sam, turning to her niece. “Especially to you, J.J.” “What, Aunt Sam?” her niece asked.
“I ate all the Butterscotch Delights on the way here!” Sam blurted out while starting to cry.
The room was silent for a moment but quickly erupted into laughter. They were laughing so hard it hurt. They couldn’t stop. J.J. was laughing harder than anyone else, as tears flowed down her cheeks.
Sam looked around. She couldn’t help herself; she started to laugh, too.
Finally, the laughter subsided and dessert was served. “You can always make Butterscotch Delights next year,” J.J. whispered to her aunt.
Sam nodded and gave her niece a hug. “By the way, Aunt Sam,” J.J. began while pulling something from a bag. “Are these your gloves?” Sam smiled. “What was lost is found,” she winked. “What was eaten .... well, it’s GONE!”