Sweetly & Home Economically ✔

Crabby Abby & Peach Cobbler

~ Crabby Abby & Peach Cobbler ~

~¤°*°*°*°¤~

Sometimes all it takes is a good cry.

The negative emotions drained from me in the form of tears, so I calmed down enough to leave the park bench and go home. It was with dry, swollen eyes and sniffly nose that I stepped inside the house.

My mom didn't say anything, even though it was late and I had been gone for a couple of hours. She held her arms open and wrapped me in a comforting hug only a mother could provide.

The bear hug from my dad involved ruffling my hair until it was messed up. If I didn't look like crap before, I certainly did when he was done. He realized what he did and tried to flatten my hair down with an apologetic smile.

Then came the part I needed as much as I dreaded: sitting down to talk. We did so at the dining table with mugs of relaxing tea. I was going to sleep all night once I got through our discussion. 

I started at the beginning by telling them everything I went through since the accident a few years ago.

The way Craig treated me since we visited him in the hospital, my own choice to be who I was, always smiling and never saying no--all because of my fears of hurting someone else or losing the bakery.

I explained how much Stressed really meant to me. That it was a place where I could do everything I love; baking, spending time with my family and friends. Making people smile without sacrificing my own happiness to do so. It was my escape from the reality I created for myself and a second home.

After I was done talking, my mom was crying and my dad wiped his tired eyes to hide his own tears. They hadn't spoken a word since I started, allowing me to get everything out uninterrupted. I wanted to talk about the business too, but we were all exhausted and they insisted I get some sleep. The last sip of my tea was cold, but I drank it anyway and went to bed.

I woke up a few hours later with my eyes burning and still swollen, emphasized by the dark circles beneath them. For my own sake, I covered most of it behind a layer of makeup. Looking better on the outside than I felt on the inside offered me a sense of comfort and confidence to get through a school day that would no doubt be miserable.

In the kitchen, I discovered a breakfast feast created by my parents. My dad fixed me a plate of eggs and bacon, pancakes, hash browns, and a very out of place grapefruit. I gave him a funny look when he put the plate of halved fruit down beside the piled high food.

He just shrugged and said, "It's healthy. I'm being a responsible parent." Then he contradicted his words by using tongs to put two more slices of bacon on top of my food. "Oh! Want some butter and syrup for your pancakes?"

"Yes, please," I gave in to the indulgence as I watched my mom pour me a glass of chocolate milk. There was no way I could eat everything they put in front of me. Staring at the food, I wondered how much they spent on just the one meal. Hesitating to bring it up, I quietly asked, "What about money? This had to be expensive."

They both stopped and looked at me.

"I mean," I continued, "now that we don't have money coming in from the bakery..."

"I still have my job, Abs," my dad said, resuming his task of making what he liked to call pancake tacos. He put a slice of bacon on a pancake with a few scoops of scrambled eggs and hash browns, drizzled some syrup on it, then folded it in half. Before he took a bite, he added with a smile, "We aren't going to starve."

"And I've decided to start catering," my mom said. "A few people have asked me about it, so I want to take advantage of the opportunity."

I pushed the food around my plate and eventually put my fork down. "So does that mean Stressed is never reopening?"