Remembering My Mother's Words

Sounding in my ears on Thursday were words I so often heard my Mother speak when she was my age, "Kid, I just can't do it like I used to!"  The 'it' she was referring to was cranking out a full days work.  At 56 I was clueless as to what she mean, twenty years later after spending the afternoon in the Monastery bakery I understood full well, I was pooped!

Looking life in the eye, it's true, aging does diminish our energy level.  Yet, it has its compensations, mine is being a member of the Dough Dough Sisterhood....the group of women I bake with in preparation for the weekly bake sales at Benedict's Bakery. 

Dorothy Ann, Rose and Nancy

Sitting with my feet up I reflected on the afternoon.  I thought of how Mary Jo helped Clara prepare the pans for the Quick Breads she was making so she wouldn't have to be on her troublesome feet as long.  In my mind's eye I saw Nancy wrapping the bread Dorothy Ann had made in the morning now that it had cooled, saving DA a trip back up to the bakery to do it.  And there was Thelma zesting oranges and lemons before squeezing them to give my arthritic hands a break and, at the sink, was Rose washing all the bowls and utensils the rest of us had used, such a gift when we were tired.

Like Mom, we can't do it like we used to, but we don't have to...there are loving hands to help us.  Life, indeed, is good.