Forgot the cookies

Forgot the Cookies

I was frantic. I had made these beautiful, wholesome cookies for my friend’s memorial service, and like a true dolt I forgot them. Now, I had to scramble.

The bakery I found was small, exclusive, and pricy, but it was all that was available on Sunday afternoon. I almost stepped right back out when I first entered the store. There was a strange odor I didn’t recognize or like, but my cookies were at home and I didn’t have an option, so I took a deep breath and pushed on in.

I asked for cookies. The clerk gave me a silly grin, and suggested brownies as an alternative, because their cookies had sold out. So, what could I do? She put the goodies into a white, paper bag with the name of the store (Cannabis Sweets) on it, above a cute picture of some leaves, and there was that smell again — just a slight hint this time. I figured it must be infused into the paper bag, but I wasn’t worried. I had to find a different bag anyway, or else everyone would realize the brownies weren’t made by my own talented hands. There was a small department store open on the main street, so I dropped in there and picked up a different bag.

As I was transferring the treats from old bag to the new, I decided I had enough to try one, just to make sure they were tasty. They were.

The service part of the memorial lasted about forty-five minutes. By the time it was finished all I could think about was having another brownie, or something else from the sweets tray. I rushed over to the food table. I was amazed at how appetizing the food looked. It appeared to glow, and all the various coloured dishes and flowers appeared brighter somehow.  I concluded it had to be the lighting — maybe those new LED lights make things look better. I made some oohing sounds to express my appreciation for the display. The tables were covered in yellow vinyl — you know that cheap stuff that comes in rolls for occasions like this, but it looked better than normal — more colourful I supposed. It was pot luck. No hot food, just salads like potato, coleslaw, and spring greens. A few vegetable trays with bowls of dip in their centres, buns, cold meats and variety of cheeses, my brownies and a couple of trays of cookies.  It all looked so good that I forgot about the desserts and filled my plate.

I was strangely hungry, so I stayed close to the table. At first other people filled their plates and wandered away to socialize. Most snagged a brownie or a cookie along with their meal. After about half an hour or so — I’m a little fuzzy on the time line for some reason — everyone had drifted back to the food tables and they weren’t leaving. With almost everyone crowded around the tables it was difficult to get to the food. I had to elbow a few people out of my way a couple of times.

I had purchased a large bag of the brownies, which turned out to be appropriate because everyone loved them, including me. I fessed up about having to buy the brownies, and so did the two people who had brought the cookies. We had a good laugh about it, and about a number of other things. In fact, considering it was a memorial service there was an abundance of laughter and other noises. People were moaning in appreciation as they ate. Others broke away from the food group to snuggle in corners, closets, and cloakrooms. I was propositioned a few times myself. Some people just sat and thought. They must have been good thought because they all had little funny smiles on their faces. They were probably thinking about the friend who we had all come to send off. All in all, it was a good memorial. I think my friend would have appreciated it.

The End

©Dave Skinner 2013