Random Acts of Cookies

Last year, as a first-time empty nester, I felt lost. I’d spent the previous 20 years as an at-home mom volunteering in my sons’ classrooms, applauding their games and concerts, and embracing my role as homemaker. Now that my sons were hundreds of miles away, I wondered what I would do with my time.

As I pondered and prayed, two thoughts surfaced. First, whatever I found to do, I’d do with my whole heart. Second, what my hand really found to do was . . . bake. Some people meet life’s challenges with solitude, some with conversation. Me? I grab a bowl and wooden spoon and start mixing.

Those first few months, I could have worn a sign reading, “Chocolate Chips R Us.” My domestic instincts kicked into serious overdrive as I baked countless batches of cookies for my boys at college. And I became a regular at the post office, perpetually toting Priority Mail boxes under my arm.

Sensing that an unlimited supply of cookies for my children was perhaps not the best display of maternal common sense, I asked my boys if their roommates might like some cookies. When the offer was met with an affirmative response, I proposed including other school friends, and before long I developed a strict policy: Any college student who wanted a box of homemade cookies just needed to e-mail his mailing address to me.

Requests began coming in. I was in business.

“Random Acts of Cookies” are sweet for reasons that have nothing to do with chocolate chips. For me, it’s a way to fulfill a mothering urge that did not simply evaporate the moment the kids transported their dirty laundry from the floor of their bedroom to that of their dorm room.

It’s also a chance to connect in some small way with my children and their new friends, many of whom I may get to meet only on parents’ visiting day. By asking about their favorite cookies, I often get a peek at students’ heritage as well as inherit recipes for family specialties that have originated with someone’s mom or grandma.

I sometimes forget that parents are not the only ones navigating a new stage of life. The college students are most appreciative of the edible cheer. I’d like to think the cookies are a little taste of home that might bring some comfort during these transitional years.

So these days, when my nest starts feeling a little too empty, all I need to do is e-mail a simple question: “Anyone want some cookies?” Before the week’s end, I’ll have requests from as many hungry Falcons, Bruins and Warriors as my wooden spoon can accommodate. And that makes everybody happy, including Mama.