I have always prided myself in my ability to offer sweet comfort to friends and loved ones. It’s what I do best. A freshly baked warm batch of scones brought a big smile to my friend Laura’s face–well that and her beautiful little baby girl born after 72 hours of labor! I swear even little Buttercup–that’s what we’re calling her even though her legal name is Viviana–perked up her tiny nose to take in the luscious scent when I paraded into the hospital room with that box of sweet buttery goodness. Ah…I like to get them early.
My sick aunt? Well, that’s a whole other story. When I heard that my aunt Christina wasn’t doing so well after several rounds of chemo had all but decimated her appetite, all I wanted to do was make her something to cheer her up. But when someone really can’t eat–her enlarged liver having hogged all the available space normally occupied by her stomach–a batch of scones or her once favorite Russian tea cakes just isn’t going to cut it. My aunt now eats like a bird–a very TINY bird. Even a small, light sponge cake–her sister’s suggestion–would take her a week to finish.
So now I have to think of other things, maybe not even food, to offer comfort. As my aunt Anna says, “its the thought that counts”–though I’d be thrill to help boost my frail aunt’s caloric intake by a few thousand. In the end, whether aunt Christina actually finishes whatever I decide to make for her isn’t the point. Its the love that’s baked inside that counts–a little sweet comfort to chase away the blues.
