The holidays are the best time to eat. Everything always seems to taste better during this time of year, and when you think about your favorite holiday food, it is so easy to dwell on something wonderful that you remembered from childhood. It might be something you think of often, or something you haven’t thought of in years, but when the thought comes into your head, within the next half hour you find the recipe, be it online or folded up in one of your coat pockets. It seems like a wonderful idea to try and recreate your wonderful memories, doesn’t it?
Rhona was on her way out the door of her Market when she found it. Tucked inside of a folder that had no business holding such a thing. She held it for a long moment, reading and re-reading as she did. Was she really seeing what she thought she was seeing? The handwriting looked right. She remembered the measurements and the instructions but... what was it doing here?
She turned the page over to see if maybe there was a name or something on it but... no. It was just... here... Her mother's peanut butter cookie recipe.
She was on her way over to Misha's new place anyway so... may as well try it out right? He bought their old house, right? Why not bake an old recipe while she tried to walk his hopeless a** through decorating?
She knew he wouldn't have anything, so she stopped by the grocery store and picked up some staples along with what she needed for the cookies, and when she finally rolled up to the old house she had to stop for a moment. Was that laughter or sorrow that she felt welling up in her chest? Something strange and powerful had begun fluttering to life. Something graceful and dangerous. She only left her car when Misha stepped out of the front door to greet her.
"Hey," his voice was timid and unsure. Something she'd never heard in his cadence before.
"Hey," her's wasn't much better, "I picked up some things. If memory serves, you're kind fo trash at keeping things stocked so... I picked up a few things."
The pizza boxes stacked up on a dining room table too small for the space confirmed her suspicions. He'd been living off of junk and take our for... a week? Maybe more?
"What made you come back," Rhona asked absently, unsure of whether or not she wanted to hear the answer. Misha only shrugged, digging around in the bags as he tried to figure out where to put everything. Rhona dropped the subject.
"Hang on," he finally said, pulling a leaf of paper from the bottom of a sack. "Where did you even get this?"
Rhona moved to his side, grinning softly.
"I just... found it."
"You found it? Where?"
"In an inventory folder at work."
"What was it even doing there?"
It was Rhona's turn to shrug. Misha laughed through his nose and set the paper down before he lined up what they would need on the counter. The same way they used to do when they were kids. The same way their dad had taught them. They put things away as they went, the way their mom had taught them. And the cookies, once in the oven, smelled the exact same as they always had.
Without proper seating in the living room -- only a love seat which was a bit too intimate for either siblings liking at the moment, they both sat as comfortably as possible on hard chairs at a too-small table and huddled around Rhona’s iPad. She introduced Misha to Pintrest and taught him how to make boards and curate looks and ideas.
“This is my holiday board for the Market.”
“Rho, this is amazing. You… you pulled it off too, didn’t you?”
“Yeah… with some help.”
Carefully, as the cookies came out of the oven, cooled, and were eaten, the two worked together to plan out gallery walls, furniture arrangements were decided upon, and a color scheme was even chosen.
“Wanna meet up next weekend? We can… we can look for some decent furniture for me?”
“Yeah, I’d… I’d like that.”
They smiled at one another, said their goodbyes, and welcomed that gentle and terrible flutter of hope in their chests.
