The Solace of Cookies

Community Voices X Pen Parentis - remembering loved ones by sharing memories through recipes, by Rachael Holliday

Today we’re bringing you an essay from our Community Voices - authentic stories relating to families and food. In this moving essay, Rachael Holliday shares how a batch of cookies became a bridge between generations, and a moment of healing wrapped in warmth and flour. Follow Rachael on Instagram @hollidayree and on BlueSky @reeholliday.bsky.social

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Pen Parentis, a national nonprofit that helps writers stay on creative track after having kids, is proud to sponsor Community Voices X Pen Parentis. Check out their annual Writing Fellowship for New Parents, free monthly Literary Salons, and Cycle of Support that includes membership, mentorship and accountability meetups. More info at writerparentannex.com

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Want to share a Tiny Food Story under 100 words? If submitting a full-length Community Voices Special feels intimidating, we’re collecting Tiny Food Stories from the One Potato Community on a rolling basis. These are reader-submitted stories about the love of food and family, 100 words or less. Click the button below to submit.

Rachael looking up to her sister Jody, and a fresh-baked batch of "Jody's Banana Oatmeal Cookies"

The Solace of Cookies

By Rachael Holliday

Older than me by seven years, my sister, Jody, was both second-mother and playmate. I recall when I was very little, how on Saturdays, she would make me macaroni and cheese the color of the school bus that took her away from me during the week. During the summer, she let me dump in the cup of white sugar while she stirred the water and flavor crystals to make cherry Kool-Aid.

I mostly remember how she read to me for hours. Little Golden Books, Richard Scarry, the Frog and Toad books by Arnold Lobel. As she read the short stories, she would point out all the ways that I was like Toad and she was like Frog. I seethed a little because I wanted to be Frog, who was wise and patient, but I knew she was right. I was Toad, a bit needy and impulsive, dependent on Frog’s love.

When Jody started high school, she cut her long brown hair and dyed it blonde. She began wearing heavy eyeshadow and kohl eyeliner and had new friends and a car. Weekends and school breaks and summers had meant hours to spend with my big sister. Now, she was rarely home and felt like a stranger. The age gap that once meant Jody was old enough to watch over me was a gulf between us. I became impatient to grow up, confident that I would reconnect with Jody once I reached my teen years.

When I was eleven, she died in a car accident a few weeks shy of graduating high school.