Because the whole process of making them makes me think of my maternal grandmother. Some of my best memories from childhood is traveling from where ever we were living at the time to my grandparents' place in southern Illinois. Before moving here to Michigan, the trip usually took a day or two depending on if we stopped in to visit with my dad's side of the family.
And we get there and almost always head right for the cookie jars. Why? Because there was always homemade cookies in the house. When you have like 7 grown kids (not including my mom) with families of their own close enough to visit at anytime, it just makes sense to have some kind of sweets on hand and homemade cookies are the cheap and easy solution. So we'd spend few days down there and catch up with family and enjoy so good homecoked meals (my grandfather once jokingly said "She doesn't cook like this when you guys aren't here. I have to cook my own food")
And finally when it came time to leave, I always said I wanted to hide and stay and live with them. Because I didn't want to miss them so much when we went back home halfway across the country. And because they were the two people I respected and admired the most in the world. But as sad as parting was, there was always the large bag of my grandmother's cookies that wouldn't last the trip home.
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