In college, a UPS man’s appearance at the front desk simultaneously aroused curiosity and surprise. The UPS man was nothing other than a harbinger of joy, as he dropped off his cardboard package of, what else? Cookies. We could find cookies on campus, especially on Thursday nights in the dining hall — but they weren’t Mom’s cookies. And they weren’t pre-meditated cookies. Cookies that were baked days earlier with kindness, thoughtfulness, and set aside (i.e. not eaten by everyone else in the house) to be packaged in a box, and driven to the UPS store to be mailed to a specific person.
Cookies that came from some other place — far from here, where there were ovens, hotpads, and a kitchen sink loaded with hot soapy water, and a person who thought of you.
Today, another brown box arrived — just when I needed a good pick-me-up.
Inside were cookies. All decorated and pretty from my Mother-In-Law. We had just eaten our last crumb of Christmas cookies, and I was thinking it was time to bake more for the boys. It is Christmas vacation, after all. But I was thankfully spared from that drama. Nothing like getting another dose of Christmas just when you thought it was all over. Brown paper, by the way, does a surprisingly amazing job of keeping cookies fresh.