Thursday, December 13, 2012

Home Made


Linking with Poetry Jam go there if you are hungry for more. :-)



"For the spirit of Christmas fulfils the greatest hunger of mankind."
 ~Loring A. Schuler




That is where all things big and small are made.  This place we call home.  It is a little different for us all, like an assortment of cookies for a Holiday party at Christmas Eve.  For some it is a wonderful mix in a bowl and others it is a burned and crumbly mess, but it is what it is.  All our integrity, hopes, cares, sense of what matters are born and bred here, like the mixing of the oatmeal, the sugar, and the butterscotch chips.  We become a batch stirred and baked for all to see when we leave those kitchen walls. 
In the kitchen I grew up in, my father was the nurturer and cook.  He was the one that tucked us in bed, wiped on the vicks vapor rub when we were sick, checked to make sure we were covered up at night, and baked us cookies and fruit cake to give our teachers at Christmas time.  It was a wonderful ritual that we had every year to make a batch of butterscotch cookies to enjoy and share with others during the Holiday season.  My father being an aeronautics engineer was a true perfectionist.  Things were always in their place and measured perfectly, so you can imagine that baking cookies was quite the endeavor.  It was an experience that I consider to be a beautiful gift of time with my Dad.  We made more than butterscotch cookies all those Christmas's ago, we made wonderful memories that are a little morsel of the person I am today.
My Dad and I Christmas 1982.

14 comments:

  1. What a lovely telling, Carrie
    Your father sounds wonderful, and slightly OCD.
    Made me think of my own memories. The smells of grandma's baking, dad taking us in the buick to see the lights, walking to midnight mass in the falling snow.
    Thanks for the memories

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    1. Your memories sound wonderful to....and yes OCD is the word. :-)

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  2. smiles...what warm memories....my mom is the baker...and my wife...dad and i did not mix as well when i was younger...not that we fought...we were just very different...that came later in life...butterscotch cookies sound amazing....never had one

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    1. They are delicious....I have not had one in years though....:-(

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  3. Reminds me of my late aunt. Her specialty was always offered on the first day of the festive season without fail. Thanks for the memories Carrie!

    Hank

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  4. This was a beautiful story to read.

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  5. Love this! My daughters and I always made oatmeal scottchies every yr. After going several years, after my two oldest got married, without them, I made some last Christmas. Such memories.

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  6. I love love butterscotch cookies, its one of my fav ~

    Thanks for sharing your special memories ~

    Happy holidays ~

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  7. Carrie, your words warmed my heart tonight. Your dad must have been a wonderful person. Interesting that he was the nurturer and the cook. Smiles. You are right, I think, that the place we call home is a little different for each of us. And the older I get the more I think that our idea of 'home' is what we experienced as a CHILD. That is our true 'home,' I think.....no matter how many homes we live in after that time. Thank you for sharing this and for making me reflect!

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    1. I agree Mary....the concept of what home means to us starts there....thank you for stopping by....hope all is well with you. :-)

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  8. What a beautiful posting about your dad. What great memories.

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  9. I loved reading this tribute to your Dad. Wonderful memories. And the bakings sound yummy.

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  10. the preparation and sharing of food is the strongest tradition we have in my family, begun by my late mother and now carried down to my grandchildren. those memories are some of the best, aren't they?

    Happy Holidays!

    thanks for participating at Poetry Jam!


    dani

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  11. I love this Carrie! I agree the memories are the sweetest part of baking, sharing and the warmth of being together!
    This is a beautiful post :D (((hugs)))

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"Our best thoughts come from others." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

....and they lived happily ever after.....

....and they lived happily ever after.....
The End.