Unchanged Melody

I went to Wendy's house for the first time in awhile yesterday. She was going to make chocolate chip cookies which is the kind of enticement that lures a food-obsessive-wanton like me. Wendy's cookies are the best. If I've told you otherwise, I am sorry, but the taste of her dough is incredibly savory almost shall I say nutty? (without nuts?) But it always perplexed me why her cookies were infinitely better than the competition.

It's Wendy's secret.

Wendy would invite me over for sleep-overs and make these cookies while we listen to Ray Bradbury's taped reading of The Wind. Depending on our age at the time we'd act the story out on her carpeted kitchen. I can play a convincing wind-tortured actress, take my word. Sci Fi and chocolate chip cookies, seriously, what a handsome couple.

Because of Wendy's seasonal jobs she lives with her parents. They are like staples in our community. Her dad is the Chamber of Commerce President and her mom is the principal of our elementary school Wasatch ("It's the best school in the laaaaaaaand!") and I like it that way. I am all for changing things up, but not Wendy, her parents and for heaven sakes, not her cookies.

So when I arrived yesterday afternoon I did my usual routine:

I read all the wedding announcements on the fridge
(there are usually twenty-seven more.)

Looked at all the contents in the spice cabinet.
(Wendy likes to bake with sunglasses on her head.)
(But that is not her secret.)

Stared at the dinning room wallpaper,
which I think has now come back into design's graces.

Watched Wendy drop rolled balls of yumminess
on the cookie sheet
while I sat on the bar stool.

And then,
as we waited for the cookies to bake,
we took a seat on the bench outside
to admire the view.

What a relief that this gorgeous mountain-side view hasn't changed either. I sat back and accessed mentally-stored files of good memories in this location. There was the cottage-style playhouse, the welcoming over-sized hot tub, the backyard lawn ornaments. All there. All still there. It made me happy and I was content to sit on that bench for the afternoon.

Then, just like old times Wendy brought me a cookie hot out of the oven. I took my first bite and let it sit, warm in my mouth.

And then something changed.

I suddenly knew her secret.