Sugar Cookie

It's that time of year - the sky darkens before dinner, wet rain turned snow begins to blow horizontally past my window, and Tuffy thinks twice before heading out the door. About now, I want to grab my pink blanket (which I've had for longer than I care to admit), hunker down on the couch (4th grade) and read a good book.

But, thankfully, this time of year also brings (it's a two tone pink, by the way) my Aunt Treva's sugar cookies.

I always look forward to going to her house for Thanksgiving or Christmas to enjoy these soft, heavenly, sugary cut-outs in the shapes of circles, stars, Christmas trees and Santa - some plain and some with white icing on top. She brings them to the table in a large container where they're carefully stacked between layers of wax paper. And I can barely contain myself. Her sugar cookies have been a constant, a tradition, for as far back as I can remember...

The year I got my driver's license? Those sugar cookies were probably taken a bit for granted. The year I graduated from college and moved out on my own and got my first big RCA television for Christmas? Sugar cookies were consumed in massive quantities. The year I got married? Sugar cookies helped to celebrate and I probably asked for the recipe.

The year I brought home the best Christmas gift of all from the hospital? Sugar cookies were about to be shared with the next generation. The year my Uncle Bud died and the year I got breast cancer? Yes, in both, sugar cookies were there to steadfastly comfort. And this year? The first year that my best Christmas gift ever was not able to come home to enjoy them? Sugar cookies absorbed a tear or two - but more for me!

My legacy to others will never involve food. And perhaps several of you are in the same boat. But to those of you who lovingly, doggedly, and without fail take the time to create once-a-year treats for the rest of us to enjoy?

Thank you. They do much, much more than quench a sweet tooth.

(and its pink satin ribbon edging has long since bit the dust)