Continue Your Hobbies As You Grieve for a Loved One

My mother loved to bake. Her orange sponge cake was famous in the neighborhood and our church. She was also known for her chocolate and blonde brownies, flaky homemade biscuits, and French chocolate cake. Friends would drop off ingredients and ask my mother to bake for them. If she had wanted, she could have turned her skills into a business.

Mixes weren't available yet and everything she baked was made from scratch. It's a wonder any baked goods came from our tiny kitchen. When I say tiny, I mean there was no counter space. Mom did her prep work on the drain board of the kitchen sink or a small table in the corner. My father used the table as desk. In order to take, she would have to clear his papers from the table first.

I learned how to bake by watching my mother. At age 15 I was making French chocolate cakes for church suppers. But the famous recipe became a sore subject after our Cocker Spaniel, Timmy, jumped up on a chair and devoured a cake my mother had just made. No person or pet could resist this confection, so we forgave the dog, and put the recipe back on our "make it" list.

My love of baking comes from my mother. Today, when I bake, I think of her. I can see her in the kitchen, totally absorbed in her task, and singing "Hit Parade" songs at the top of her lungs. It has taken me decades to realize that baking is a source of comfort. The question is, why?

Read More: http://EzineArticles.com/7111827