The white milky almond mixture in the pan started to gently bubble away. The gentle milky waves, guided my hands. Intimidated at first to cook the milk cream fudge after nearly one year.
“Can you do it perfectly this time? What if it overcooked to a hard dry mound, or it was taken too early off the heat resulting in a sticky wet mess?” ‘Hang on Lita, you can do it to perfection, at least try!’ my higher self-ramblings preoccupied my mind.
The fire of the stove flickered a hope in my heart’s desire to cook, even if it did not turn out well. In the past I thought to myself, the milk cream never lived up to my expectation, another try would do no harm. With slight hesitation I took the initial baby steps and poured the milk in the pan, white flowing liquid. Just as I took steps to correct my life which was long overdue. It definitely intimidated me, the milk boiling, the ground nuts added and stirring at intervals to guide it to a smooth White consistency. One small folly and the mixture would turn into a brown fudge with the scorched milk. Carefully I paid attention to the mixture just as I focused on my actions and thoughts in my life, trying not to scorch myself in the bargain while picking my life from the strewn pieces on the floor, in the deep gutters of my broken life. I just had the recipe of life, each one giving me advice, talks, but at the end it was me who had to stir my life, into a smooth consistency.
Vanilla added to the mixture filled my nostrils with a tempting serene aroma just as the beautiful words of appreciation and motivation that few of my friends filled my very being from time to time. It was the testing time, the mixture was leaving the sides of the pan. But was it ready? My brain was fixed. Nagging thoughts of doubt creeping in,
“Should I remove it, should I continue cooking?”
I was in a dilemma, but I listened to my higher self, “Let go, Lita. It’s time you let go.”