Gone

The children are gone.

They grew up.

Moved away.

I face the compelling proof:
there is no one to lick the spoon.

I mix the thick batter and fold in the berries.  And, just as I do each time I make this sweet bread, I briefly mourn the end of childhood in my home.

Stirring the batter is a reckoning.  I review the evidence:

          There are no toys in the bath tub.  No scent of baby powder and shampoo. 
          There is no car seat in the back of the car, no folding chair in the trunk.
          I do laundry twice a month now instead of twice a day.
          If the last piece of chocolate is missing, I know the culprit is me.
          There is never an empty roll of cardboard where the toilet paper should be.  I no longer own a plunger.
          When I vacuum, there are no surprises underneath the couch.
          There is no one to wait up for, save for Jimmy Fallon or Stephen Colbert. 
          The last of the outlet covers is gone.  All of the scissors have long, sharp edges.
          There are no old purses filled with make believe.   Barbie doesn’t live here any longer.
          No small voices vibrate my ear drums, I hear none of their special language: no “Blooty and the Beast,”            no “comfyful.”   I hear no jumping and singing behind the bathroom door.
          Nowhere is there the smell of sweaty heads or ripe gym clothes
          There is no artwork on the refrigerator door.
          No child snuggles in next to me when I read a book or watch a movie.  The steady physical closeness,              warmth, and affection, the frequent soft kisses, the holding of chubby hands—gone.
 
A few weeks ago, I finished a book by Celeste Ng, Little Fires Everywhere.  It is a beautiful novel about two very different mothers and their children.  One quote caught my attention, and I wrote it down:
​
"Parents, she thought, learned to survive touching their children less and less…There had scarcely been a moment in the day when they had not been pressed together…It was like training yourself to live on the smell of an apple alone, when what you really wanted was to devour it, to sink your teeth into it and consume it, seeds, core, and all.”

Perhaps, that is the great loss I mourn today as I use the spatula to wipe both the bowl and the spoon clean.
 
I bake the bread and divide it into quarters.  When the bread has cooled, I wrap each section.  I put the pieces into the freezer for a day when the children come home for a visit, when, for a few moments, they are not gone.  As I look ahead to that day, a soulful Alan Jackson song plays in my mind:

  "Remember when we said when we turned gray
   When the children grow up and move away
   We won’t be sad, we’ll be glad
   For all the life we’ve had
   And we’ll remember when”
​
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                                                                     Blueberry Tea Cake 

                                                                     1 egg, beaten
                                                                     2/3 cup sugar
                                                                     1 ½ cups flour
                                                                     2 teaspoons baking powder
                                                                     ½ teaspoon cinnamon
                                                                     ¾ teaspoon salt
                                                                     1/3 cup milk
                                                                     3 tablespoons butter, melted
                                                                     1 teaspoon vanilla extract
                                                                     1 cup fresh blueberries
                                                                     2 tablespoons sugar

1.  Preheat oven to 400 degrees.  Grease 1 ½ quart, shallow baking dish.
2. In medium bowl, with fork or wooden spoon beat egg.  Gradually beat in 2/3 cup sugar; beat until well combined.
3. Mix flour, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt.  Add to sugar mixture alternately with milk.  Beat well after each addition.
4. Add butter and vanilla.  Beat thoroughly.  Fold in blueberries.
5. Pour batter into prepared pan.  Sprinkle top with 2 tablespoons sugar.  Bake 25 minutes, or until top springs back when lightly touched with fingertip.  Serve warm, with butter.

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