Wednesday, April 11, 2012

What I Think About: Crying in My Cornbread

There's no use crying over spilt milk.

There's no use crying over spilt perfume.

Is there a use for crying in your cornbread?

Last week we had a cold spell (in Wyoming?  Shocking ...) so I decided to whip up a batch of veggie chili and cornbread.

Here is where the story gets long.  See my mom used to make this killer cornbread.  It was sweet and cake-like and incredibly moist.  I had the recipe--flour, cornmeal, eggs, oil, sour cream, honey (did I mention it was delicious and that almost always means UNHEALTHY?).

Unfortunately about 5 years ago I decided that Krustez cornbread mix was every bit as good as my mom's recipe (one of the few times I've been wrong) and so much easier.  Let's face it, it takes a long time to measure a cup of flour.  Or maybe I'm just lazy.

Anyhow, lately I've just gotten really cheap healthy so I wanted to make more stuff from scratch and less stuff from a box.  Flash forward to the chilly day and veggie chili in need of cornbread.

I go to the recipe box and look under "breads and muffins."  It's not there.  It wasn't under appetizers, beef, poultry, fish, brunch, soups, salads ... it was no where.  The recipe is gone.  Gone as in I looked at every recipe in my recipe box for an hour gone.  Gone.

I was a bit choked up but I put on my big girl panties, googled a recipe, and whipped up a batch of cornbread.  As I stirred the mixture together it happened.  Big, fat crocodile tears started running down my face and into my cornbread ingredients.

Because it was my mom's recipe.

Because it was written in her handwriting.

Because I can't ask her to write it down for me again.

It was this hideous reminder--days before Easter--that she is gone and that I'll never taste her cornbread again.

What I think is that sometimes something as small as a missing recipe makes her death real again.  It shocks me like a bucket of ice water over my head--drenching my strength, leaving me gulping for air, and fighting back tears. As I stood there crying in my cornbread, I was reminded that grief is a long process.

I miss my mom's cornbread but really, I just miss my mom.

Thanks, Shell for letting me Pour My Heart Out (into my cornbread) on your blog.


  1. Aww. I'm so sorry that something simple as cornbread could bring back a flood of emotions for you. :(
    I'm sure your mom was smiling down on you with happy tears in her eyes that the cornbread brought you to remembering her.

  2. Your mom sounds like she was a wonderful lady to have a daughter who misses her so much.

    It always amazes me what brings tears to our eyes. A sound, a scent, a beloved Bible with a scribbled pencil note in the margin.

    It's been three years since my Gram passed on, and I think I'm ok until something pops up out of nowhere and starts the tears again. However, there are lots more smiles and happy memories that come along with that, too, these days.

    I agree with Tiffany-I am sure your mom was loving you from above.

  3. I'm so sorry you had to experience this painful reminder. *hugs*

  4. Thanks so much for your bathtub glow stick idea!! I put it on my activity list on my blog and left linky love for you! Thanks again,

    Gianne at

  5. I'm so sorry you couldn't find her recipe! I've lost my mother too, and those moments of missing are just so painful sometimes. I'm hoping/praying that it isn't gone forever and that perhaps it is tucked away in some place random and you'll find it when you least expect it!

  6. I agree with Kim that this is further proof of what a great mom she was to you and how much love you shared.

    I'm so sorry both she and her cornbread are gone. Hugs!

  7. I'm sorry for your loss. Sending hugs!


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