Mother's Cookies

You would think an event would have to be pretty dramatic to be one of the few memories that you have from your earlier years. I have these;

~Getting my doll, Stephanie, when I was 2. It's very foggy, but I know it happened because my parents confirmed the details I gave them.
~Being on a walk with my brother Thom, my Mother, and some other lady. Thom, who is under one year old at the time, spits up on his shirt and my Mom's friend knelt down to the stroller and rubbed his shirt together in the front to make the stuff soak in. I thought that was weird and I was only three.
~Bouncing on my Mom's leg as she sang "Banbury Cross". We were in a laundromat and I was three-ish.
~Eating the little round sprinkles that are on "Mother's Frosted Circus Animals" cookies out of the carpet with my brother Thom. I was four, he was two. I don't remember eating the cookies, but whatever was left in the bottom of the bag made it all over the carpeting in the living room and Thom and I spent a great deal of an afternoon scanning every inch of the carpet for sprinkles.

These are strange memories to hold on to. Not dramatic or exciting. The last one I have here about the sprinkles has played into the last couple months with the closing of the "Mother's Cookies" factory. It was bad timing for me.( I'm sure all the people that lost their jobs were feeling the same way.) My Nana died two days after the election and my sister and I were talking about things that could help memorialize her. One small thing would be to continue keeping cookies in the cookie jar at our Dad's house. Nana never baked, but she was spectacular at keeping goodies in the house. So we said we would always keep that jar stocked with "Mother's" cookies. We went to three grocery stores only to find empty space where cookies used to be. We had so many other things going on at the time that we let it go. About a week after her memorial service I remembered to use my trusty Google search bar to find out what was up with "Mother's". That's when I found out the bad news. I wasn't in a great state to be hearing any bad news. Quickly I figured out that they were sending all the last cases to a store nearby and so began the cookie therapy. I'm not sure what my reasoning was, but I bought a lot of cookies and ate enough to, I don't know- make me so sick of them that I would be fine with never having them again.(?) The store still has some left. You can tell they are running out. The regular stores still have a big sad hole in the cookie section and I'm not so sick of the cookies that I will never want one again. I think the cookies became a distraction from the real issue. Nana died. It's baffling, cookies or no cookies.
There will always be cookies in that green cookie jar. Maybe our new vow should be that they should never be home made.