Peanut Butter and Jelly

I just read you Peanut Butter and Jelly. It is not a story like some stories, but it has a sequence.

You liked order. You were an organized person. You kept our house in order. You liked things neat and clean. I can remember spending entire days cleaning out our toy boxes, and cleaning, and cleaning.

But I also remember good times in the kitchen. You tried to teach me. You showed me how to put the eggs, the sugar, and maybe the vanilla in big mixing bowl and cream it all up. Then you would sift the dry ingredients. You would sift the flour all by itself. Then you sifted the baking powder or baking soda, and the salt with the sifted flour. Then we would add the sifted ingredients to the liquid ingredients and mix it all together.

We liked your cooking. You were a good cook. I cannot say that I cook that way now. It’s a family joke that I cannot follow a recipe. Most times I use a wooden spoon and pour and dump, and stir and mix, and so far, the men in my household have eaten it pretty well.

But you tried to teach me. I appreciate that. The times I didn’t follow your directions, well, it was probably another one of those, “I never cease to be amazed,” moments. You tolerated my creative spirit, and you did teach me to be organized and to think things through. I want to thank you for that too.