Foyer cookies = love

After the divorce I moved in and lived with my father for about 8 or 9 months. During the first 5 months or so I hardly ate. Too depressed to care, I just wasn’t hungry. ( I went from a healthy 129 down to 108 in the matter of weeks after initially finding out what was going on. I maintained that wafer thin status for over a year. Ewh!) Exceptions to my not eating were bakery cookies from W*ild Oats.

Sometime before I moved back my dad became a health food nut and started shopping at the organic only grocery store. One day he bought a cookie from their bakery (the big round $1/piece cookies, thick, chunky and tasty!), brought it home and shared it with me. (Organic doesn’t always mean gross. You’ve gotta try these cookies!) I must have mentioned how good it was b/c from that time on till I moved out, twice or three times a week he would leave me a bakery cookie next to my car keys in the foyer. Never a note or word was spoken about it. But like I do now with Saturday afternoons, I ALWAYS looked forward to the cookie mornings.

5 years later my dad still insists on giving me food when I leave after visiting with him. In this week alone I have obtained 5 bananas and half a cooked chicken. Odd? Yes. But I know it’s his way of showing he cares and I adore it.

We don’t always express our thoughts and feelings with words but we managed to do a bang up job with food. A few months ago we were disagreeing about something, I felt bad/awkward about it. So later that night I bought and took him a bakery muffin. “High cholesterol be damned, I bought you a cookie. Sorry we fought”