Ice crystals jingled, like tiny bells in the air. On a day as bright as a shout, the snow beneath my feet glittered. Maverick and I’d found a home on a mountain top. I’d stay forever, just my Newfoundland and I, but I’d left so much behind.
My life as a healer.
It called me back.
Once, I’d wanted to change the world.
Maybe I still could.
I mixed the dough. Oat flour and oats for texture; banana, blueberries, grated carrots and dates for sweetness; chia, hemp, sunflower and flaxseeds for antioxidant power and nutty crunch. Each batch carried a different spice. Cardamon for a sweet, citrusy warmth like dawn’s first breath; star anise, aromatic and mysterious, like secrets shared under a starlit sky; clove, bold, with a hint of danger; saffron, golden thread of sunlight; sumac, bright and unexpected; pink peppercorn, playful and unpredictable, and black cardamom, smoky, like a shadow at the forest’s edge.
The muffins’ golden domes shimmered, as if dusted with morning dew from an enchanted forest. Breaking one open released a scent that unfurled forgotten memories. I took a bite—magic that didn’t shout but whispered, something you felt deep inside. Each flavor danced as if the stars had whispered ancient recipes into the batter.
I brought each person I’d left behind into memory and placed a Christmas message beneath each muffin.
To the man who had left his daughter behind: Who do you miss—who might miss you, but you’ll never know if you don’t reach out?
To the woman buried in a career she hated when she longed to write stories: Instead of trying to do well what you don’t want to do, blaze a new trail.
To the eighteen-year-old facing an uncertain future: You don’t have to believe in yourself yet. Just believe the next step is worth taking.
To the older man recovering from his injuries: You may not control the road ahead, but every small step matters.
To the young teacher with dreams bigger than her doubts: Instead of asking, ‘What if I fail?’ ask, ‘What if I soar?’ I packed the muffins, Christmas messages and my spices.
Tomorrow, I’d start the journey down. The world waited. I had gifts to deliver and work to complete.
(c) 2024 Lynne Curry
This story originally published in Cafe Lit on 12/9/24.
