⏱ ~3 min reading
Sofiyka had been standing next to her grandmother in the store for five minutes, pulling her by the sleeve toward the shelf with sweets.
"Grandma, just one box. Look, with a bunny on the lid. Everyone at school has one like that.".
Grandma looked at the box. Raspberry plastic. A bunny with big eyes. The candies inside were pink, yellow, like tiny balls.
— Sofiyko. Let's do something ourselves today, shall we?
— What?
— Cookies. I have butter, flour, sugar at home. And also strawberry jam, from last summer.
Sofiyka looked at the box. Then at her grandmother. The candies sparkled.
— Grandma, well…
— Try it. If you don't like it, I'll buy it next time.
Sofiyka sighed. They left the store without any candy. On the way home, Sofiyka was silent for a while.
When they entered the apartment, Grandma immediately went to the kitchen. She turned on the oven. She put a bowl on. She took a yellow stick of butter out of the refrigerator. She poured in the flour.
"Come here. You will be my assistant.".
Sofiyka stood on a stool. The kitchen smelled of a warm oven. Grandma showed her how to rub butter with sugar - so that it became fluffy, like cream. Sofiyka dipped her finger - sweet.
— Now flour. Little by little.
Sofiyka poured it in. Grandma kneaded the dough with her hands. It became smooth, yellow, and soft — like a pillow.
— Now the most interesting thing.
Grandma took out small molds. Star. Heart. Moon. Chamomile.
— Choose which ones you like.
Sofiyka chose them all. She and her grandmother rolled out the dough, cut out the cookies — in rows. In the middle of each — a drop of strawberry jam. Red. Thick.
— And now — into the oven.
After fifteen minutes, the kitchen smelled so good that Sofiyka couldn't stand still. She wanted to try it right away.
"Wait. It's hot.".
When the cookies had cooled a bit, Grandma put one on a plate. A little heart. In the middle was a strawberry drop, like a red star.
Sofiyka took it. She took a bite. And froze.
The cookies crumbled in your mouth—soft as snow. Warm. Sweet. And the strawberries—like summer bursting on your tongue.
"Grandma. Grandma, this is..."
— What, Sofiyko?
"This is tastier than candy. This is the most delicious thing in the world.".
Grandma smiled. She sat down next to me. She took a chamomile.
— Do you know why? Because a machine works in the factory in the candy. And in the cookies, your hands. And mine. And the strawberries that I picked in the summer in my grandmother's garden. You taste it — and you taste summer. And our hands.
Sofiyka ate another one. Then another. Then she put some on a plate — for mom and dad when they came.
Dinner was late. Mom went into the kitchen - it smelled of warm butter and strawberries. There was a plate of cookies on the table. Sofiyka was already asleep on the sofa, with her hand full of crumbs.
The following week, Sofiyka asked her grandmother again. Without a word about the box with the bunny.
💡 The most delicious thing is what is made with love.