She drove my car way more often than I did this summer, and borrowed my clothes as a matter of course.
“Hey, is that my…?” I’d asked.
“Yes, it is!” she’d answer cheerfully as she headed out the door.
She left coffee grounds in her press on the kitchen counter and piled shoes by the side door. We could trace her path through our house by the water glasses she left behind.
She only made her bed on alternating Sundays during waning moons.
Man, I’m going to miss that kid.
Molly had herself an excellent summer, rode a camel into the Moroccan Desert, enjoyed a stimulating summer internship and worked at one of the coolest shops in Appleton.
And, she baked. Good lord, how she baked! Like other people might do counting cross-stitch, knit sweaters or whittle old people’s faces out of withered apples, Molly baked — a chocolate fudge cake with coffee frosting, mini rhubarb cupcakes with cream cheese frosting, banana cake with peanut butter frosting, every kind of chocolate chip cookie, a fresh strawberry cake filled with strawberry mousse and iced with rose water frosting.
“I’m really getting into brown butter,” she said one afternoon as she stood merrily whisking at the stove.
She packed up most of the goodies and distributed them to friends, but we sampled enough these past two months to require a post-summer slim down regime, which I definitely intend to start…tomorrow.
For now, on the morning after we dropped our youngest off to begin her second year at college, I am nibbling one of her molasses cookies with brown butter frosting, and savoring sweet thoughts of another too-short summer.
Au Revoir! Until we see each other again.
(Which will be Thursday, at the Packer game).
Still, she’s my youngest.
And the pool’s closed.
And the house is very, very quiet this morning.