This Time/That Time

This time, I am in a kitchen, in Dallas Texas, without my mom (but, with the BFF, bless her).

That time, either years ago--December 21, 2003-- I was in sunny California with my mom.

That time was the last time we spent a day together. The last time we baked cookies. Watched Little Women. Sang Deck the Halls. We wooden spoon sang Master of The House. We made popcorn balls. We swooned over Johnny Depp.

The last time.

The day before she died.

I remember everything about our last full day together. Which is weird, considering, the details of the following day are fairly blurred (I have some distinct memories, which, I've shared with some people, but, the one that stands out the most was ordering a smoothies at Jamba Juice that night with my dad and going off the the clerk for taking about my dead mother. I was a mess).

We woke up, watched two Johnny Depp movies, mom with her coffee (lots of sugar, and a hot chocolate packet), me with my Diet Coke and then proceeded to the annual baking portion of our holiday.

I remember what I wore: pink velour pants, a white printed tee shirt, a denim button down-- unbuttoned, bare feet. I had just cut off all my hair into a bob and had gone from beach blonde to my auburn. I wore it curly because my mom thought it was sassy.

We put on Little Women and baked-- as was our tradition. We made my mom's famous oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, popcorn balls, coconut dream bars, fudge and of course, spritz cookies.

My dad, stepmom and half sister came over that night to exchange gifts. We gave them a basket of cookies. To this day, even through three moves, my dad still has a single spritz cookie from that basket in the freezer. He says he will never get rid of it.

We stayed up too late watching What About Bob and laughing when I finally fell asleep on the sofa my mom brought me my pillow and blanket and didn't wake me.

I'll never forget that day.

I'll never forget that it was the last traditional holiday baking I've done. I'll never stop wishing I could relive it. That I could smell my mom's perfume, see her glasses, and laugh at her dropping her ring for the 500th time in the flour.

I'll never stop wishing for the day when I can recreate those memories with my daughter.

But, today, this time, I shall watch sitcoms with the BFF, I shall bust out my cookie press, and I will try my hand at a recipe I've not touched in eight years.

This time, I wish she was here. I wish I had a daughter. I wish for so many things. But, wishes get you nowhere.

So, this time I will wear black yoga pants (still can't wear legit clothes), a white shirt and a cardigan, my hair will be longer, straight, and dark brownish red, but, I will again, be barefoot.

This time, I will make goodies for my friends in Dallas and I will remember how lucky I was to have my mom. If only for 19 short years.

This time won't be the same as that time, but, it'll be my time.

(and here's where it all started--SP, age 2--a cookie monster even then)