HIS FAVORITE COOKIES

An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In death’s agony, he suddenly detected the savory smell of his favorite rugalah cookies (a Jewish pastry made with a cream cheese dough and different fillings…raisins and walnuts and cinnamon); the heavenly aroma was slowly wafting up the stairs. He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort forced himself down the stairs, gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs. With labored breath, he leaned against the door-frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death’s agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven; there, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favorite rugulah cookies.

Oldman-walker

Graveyard - rest in peace

Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?

With one great final effort, he threw himself toward the table, landing on his knees in a rumpled posture. His parched lips parted; the wondrous taste of the rugalah cookies was already in his mouth, seemingly bringing him back to life.

The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a rugalah cookie at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife. “Don’t touch,” she shouted, “they’re for the mourners who come back to the house after the funeral.”


About this entry