Cookies are the remedy to all of life’s problems. They are the answer to my secret prayers and a gift from up above. Somehow, they always manage to ease my worries. I am always stressed about something. I am always either worrying about homework that I have to get done, stressing over tests I need to study for, or freaking out over the fact that I don’t think I have to do anything, but I probably just forgot. Life can get overwhelming and overcomplicated, and when this happens, sometimes you just need an escape. For me and, frankly, for every normal person, desserts are that escape. It could be watching cookies get made, making cookies myself, or just eating cookies. Anything involving me and cookies is a good thing. And I am not just talking about dessert on a fundamental “sweet things make me happy” level (although, that is true). Cookies, chocolate chip bar cookies to be specific, have come to mean much more.

When I was a child, I use to spend a lot of time at my grandparents’ house. My brothers and I would play board games, color, or make crafts. But, our favorite activity was making cookies with our grandma. Yes, the cookies were delicious and we enjoyed eating them, but it was the process that made us so happy. Our grandma would let us get the ingredients together and she would help us measure and mix. To us, it was magical. Creating something with our own hands and the pride of sharing that creation with others brought us immense joy. I can still remember sitting impatiently in the living room waiting for the oven timer to go off so that we could finally take the cookies out of the oven. However, none of us could ever manage to stay in the living room for the entire seventeen minutes of cook time; we would constantly race back and forth calling out how much time was left. Memories like these litter my childhood with such happiness.

Now, as a college student, looking back on the days of my youth gives me a bittersweet feeling. My grandma, in all her glory and benevolence, is gone. It is painful to know that I will never be able to sit in her kitchen with her and make cookies again. It is difficult to come to the realization that as time moves on for me and I grow and mature, moments with her will begin to fade from my memory. That is why, when I am tired or sad, I will go into our kitchen at home and make cookies. In those moments as I gather ingredients, mix the dough, and pre-heat the oven, I can’t help but think of my childhood. The pain and sorrow begins to melt just as the chocolate in my cookies begin to melt. The stress of life and the obstacles in my way shrink down to minuscule proportions. Cookies, delicious and wonderful, have become a connection to my grandma, a glimpse into the past, and a means with which to move into the future.