When I was a young child there was nothing better than homemade cookies. Homemade cookies, fresh from the oven, were like treats on demand.
Have a crappy day at school? Nothing a chocolate chip cookie or peanut butter cookie couldn’t fix. Horrible weather outside, leaving you trapped indoors? Cookie to the rescue. But the best time to have a cookie was when they had been made for no reason. None other than the fact that I enjoyed cookies.
Cookies were like a hug without actually getting a hug. And the wild thing was, my mom wasn’t a fan of making them. When I was older and I’d ask for a cookie, she’d tell me to make them myself. She hated the work that went into making them. (Cakes, buns and such were another story.)
I don’t make cookies all that often myself. I know I could and no they aren’t hard to make. But there is only so much a person can do In a day. And when I get the notion to make them, most often times I don’t have the ingredients. By the time I’m back from buying everything I need, I no longer want the cookie.
Still, there is a part of me that when presented with fresh, homemade cookies reverts back to a young child relishing the simple glory of all that the cookie holds.