I Wish I Had A Cookie

My mother (L) and Aunt Ethel (R)

In Memory Of Aunt Ethel
2/23 - 12/08

I grew up in a ridiculously small town on the outskirts of Appalachia. It was the kind of town where everyone knew everyone and they all looked out for each other.

My Aunt Ethel lived two doors down the street from us. The neighbors yard that sprawled between our houses was distinctly marked with a worn path leading from our back door to her front door.

I walked (or rather ran) that path nearly every day as a child. Even as young as three years old, I made the journey by myself on a regular basis.

There was never a need to knock on Ethel's door, a mere "Hi Ethel!!!! I'm here!" as I entered her living room was good enough.

I can still hear her voice as she would call back to me, "Hello, Becky Jean! Come on in!"

Ethel always kept a cookie jar filled with macaroon cookies in her kitchen, and I would make a beeline for it first thing upon arrival. For a few minutes I'd sit at her kitchen table and chatter to her, my skinny long legs dangling off the edge of the chair as I gobbled down the delicious treat.

My mother had a sweet tooth herself, so of course we had cookies at our house too. Somehow they just didn't taste as good to me as the cookies at Ethel's house did.

The things we remember from our childhood are interesting to me. My Aunt Ethel was a wonderful woman, always gentle, kind and loving. I cherished her, and was most definitely very fond of her macaroon cookies. Even though I've long since given up eating them, I still think of her every time I spot a package of them sitting on a store shelf.

Aunt Ethel passed away only two days ago at the age of 85. She was the last one left of the Fairchild sisters. I'm glad she's gone on to Heaven and can't help but smile when I think of the reunion that must have taken place as she entered the gates. No doubt my mother and her other siblings all met her there, those big trademark "Fairchild" smiles glowing as they welcomed her in.

I was able to see Ethel during our trip to Ohio for Thanksgiving. Walt and I stopped to visit her twice while we were there. She was failing quickly but her mind was surprisingly sharp. She recognized me right away and talked about the hibiscus plant we'd given her last summer.

It was a good visit and one we were grateful for, but it left Walt and me both in tears.

I spent the better part of yesterday evening and this morning trying to no avail, to find a decently priced airline ticket so I can fly home for the memorial service. At this point, it looks like I'll either be driving or not going at all.

I can't imagine missing it but I may have no other choice.

How did life get so complicated anyway? It's been a rough week in general. Besides all the stress naturally associated with the holidays and Ethel's passing, I've got three or four other situations that are pressing, all of them "urgent" in one way or another.

I have important appointments scheduled for tomorrow night and Friday. Even if I don't go to Ohio, I will likely cancel those. A couple other situations are causing me aggravation and grief too, but I can't do anything about them right now.

So instead, I have chosen to sit in my pajamas and sort my thoughts for a while. Dealing with life logically can almost be a handicap at times. I'm not without emotions, don't get me wrong. It's just that logic tends to prevail and I am able to slip into this "auto-mode" as I manage my way through the necessary evils in life.

But you know, sitting here as I negotiate all the pros and cons and consider all the what's and if's, I find my mind repeatedly drifting back to one thing.

I really just wish I had a cookie.