Baking from the Heart

​I've not made much in the last few weeks. Partly because of the holidays, partly because of travel and relationships – both internal and external. Some of it has been because of Shadow. I feel the desire to connect back in. There's a short story I am committing to finish. And I want to do more to promote the site. Thinking back over the last few weeks, though, I have made things. Of course I have. We are all Creators, all the time – making is inevitable. I'm sharing these sweet treats here because I firmly believe that creating is not limited to the page, or what we may think of as "art." That it's not about the finished product, but the process of connecting to our creative spirit.

Baking makes me feel connected to my mother. In fact, I called her three times while making the carrot cake to get advice. "I'm just about to put it in the oven, are you SURE it's supposed to be so thin in the pans?! What if it doesn't rise?" "How much confectioner's sugar do I use for the icing?" and "Okay, that worked, but now how long do I have to wait for it to cool before I put the icing on, and what do I use?" 

This comforts me. That she is on the other end of the phone and she knows the answers. Because she's done it before. And so has her mother before her. There's ancestry here, there's maternal lineage. There are red and blue mixing bowls and warped spatulas and delicate sifters that are all ancient, and that I love because they come from somewhere important. I know the lines and weight and sound of them – they are known. There are plastic-covered recipe cards with splatters of pumpkin spice and caked in flour that exist because my grandmother wrote this shit down and passed it on. She is known. 

This all comforts me and helps me remember there was a time when I stood tip-toe on a kitchen chair in an apron that was too big, pressing out heart-shaped cookies, sprinkles at the ready, the whir of the mixer in the background gearing up for a second batch, my mom by my side. Coming from a very small family, this makes me feel held and a part of something. The moment now when someone I love bites into one of these goodies I've made, sounds of delight and appreciation escaping between mouthfuls, makes me feel good and full. I am known.