I've been bawling all day. In the midst of baking today, my mixer officially broke. Which is stressful enough in its own right. However, this wasn't just a mixer. It has been my mixer for the past several years. Before that, it sat under a cover at my great grandmother's house, unused since a few years ago she passed away. But before that- it was used.
It was used when she made bread or rolls for Sunday. It was used when she made strawberry shortcake with berries I picked in the garden. It was used when she made me chocolate chip cookies before we sat down to watch HeeHaw or the Grand Ole Opry. It was used when she taught me, at 5, how to make cookies for myself. It was used when I created my own recipe for cinnamon raisin bread. It was used to create my love of baking and further bond me to my grandmother. That mixer has over 20 years of memories ingrained for me, and I'm currently devastated. It's like losing her all over again. She didn't get to see how much I've done since then. What I've been able to accomplish with that mixer. With her mixer, I've been able to help people celebrate their new marriages. To welcome new babies. To celebrate life.
I'm glad her trusty Kitchenaid has lasted this long. I'm thankful for all the memories I was able to make with it. Including using it to bake with my own daughter. I just wasn't ready to let go. But then again, I don't think I ever would have been. I don't think any of us are.
In the past two days, her mixer had made 120 cookies, 80+cupcakes, a 50th birthday cake, a 3 tier wedding cake, a sheet cake, and a 2 tier graduation cake. So as I end the day by making a cheesecake sandwiched between double layer red velvet with Oreo bottoms without its aid, I hope my grandma is still with me. That she knows I love her and that I couldn't have done it with out her.