So, it was Aunt Carol’s birthday coming up. You know, she’s not really my aunt, but she’s always been there, kind of like a second mom. Ever since I was a kid, scraped knees, bad days at school, she was the one with the cookies and the listening ear. So, yeah, her birthday is a big deal for me, even if she insists it isn’t.
I started thinking about what to do a couple of weeks back. She’s not really into fancy stuff or big parties. She always says, “Oh, don’t fuss over me!” But I wanted to fuss, just a little. I remembered she absolutely loves my homemade chicken soup, the one with the tiny dumplings I learned to make from my actual grandma. It’s her comfort food. So, that was plan A: the soup.
Then I thought, a little something extra would be nice. Not store-bought, because that feels a bit, I don’t know, impersonal for her. I’m not exactly a crafting genius, believe me. My attempts at knitting usually end up looking like a spider had a fight with some yarn. But I figured I could manage something simple. I decided to try and make one of those pressed flower bookmarks. She’s always reading, stacks of books everywhere. It felt right.
Okay, so first, the flowers. I went for a walk in that little park near my place a few days before, looking for small, flat flowers. Daisies, some little purple things I don’t know the name of, a few nice leaves. Got them home, carefully laid them between sheets of newspaper, and stuck them inside a heavy encyclopedia. Operation Pressed Flowers was officially underway. I just hoped they wouldn’t turn into brown mush.
Birthday morning arrived. First thing, I checked the flowers. Phew! They actually looked pretty good, all delicate and papery. I got some clear contact paper and a piece of sturdy cardstock. Cutting a neat rectangle from the cardstock was challenge number one. My lines are never straight. But I managed something vaguely rectangular. Then I arranged the tiny flowers on it. This part was fiddly. Tweezers were my best friend. I felt like a surgeon performing a very, very tiny operation. Once I was happy, or happy enough, I carefully sealed it with the contact paper. Not perfect, a few tiny air bubbles, but it was made with love, right?
Next up: the soup. I went to the store early to get the freshest chicken and veggies. Of course, I forgot the celery. Had to run back. Classic me. Chopping everything up took ages. Onions made me cry, as usual. The whole kitchen started smelling amazing though, as the broth simmered. Making those tiny dumplings is always the most time-consuming part, rolling out the dough super thin, cutting tiny squares, a little dollop of filling. My back was aching a bit by the end, but it’s a labor of love.
Finally, everything was ready. The soup was in a big thermos to keep it hot, and the bookmark was tucked into a card. I drove over to her place. She opened the door, all surprised. “What’s all this?” she asked, already smiling.
We sat in her cozy kitchen, and I served up the soup. Her face when she tasted it – that was everything. “Oh, this is just what I needed,” she said, closing her eyes for a moment. She absolutely loved the bookmark too, even with its slightly wobbly edges. She immediately put it in the book she was currently reading.
We just talked for hours. About everything and nothing. It wasn’t a grand party, no expensive gifts. Just soup, a handmade bookmark, and good company. But seeing her so happy, so genuinely touched, that made all the chopping, the flower pressing, and the slightly sore back totally worth it. She really is my second mom, and making her birthday a little special is the least I can do after all she’s done for me. It’s those simple things, you know?
