This morning I got up a little earlier than usual and headed to the local meat and sausage market. I wanted to make kolaches. In this part of Texas, we call them kolaches. Most of the rest of the world calls them pigs in blankets. I had everything but the sausage. The sausage store is only about 10 minutes from my house. I was up and feeling like a drive, so that’s what I did.
The drive was of little consequence. I got what I needed, including my required box of milk duds, and headed back home. I preheated the oven and took out my trusty pampered chef cookie sheet. I opened the can of biscuits and placed them on the cookie sheet… that’s when it hit me. That trigger… my kitchen helper was not here to press the biscuits out, not here to carefully place the cheese and then the sausage in the biscuits. I thought to myself, I really need to start buying a smaller can of biscuits. Then I looked at the 8 biscuits that needed pressing down. I could hear his little voice, “mama I washed my hands. mama they’re clean. mama is this enough cheese? You roll them up, mama”. I let the memories of my sweet Patrick wash over me and I remembered how much fun he had helping me make kolaches and even more fun eating them! I smiled and enjoyed the memory… I didn’t let it take me down the road of being sad and having a whole day ruined because I was triggered. I smiled and remembered with fondness my sweet kitchen helper watching the minutes pass on the timer and waiting for the kolaches to be done. Ahh this is that healing thing they keep telling me about…