Honey Grove

Brenna chose a town in Texas where she wanted to live. Honey Grove. She had picked out the property, an older building that had been converted into two living quarters. It even had a handicapped chair to the upper level. She was preparing for MY old age. I wish she were with me now to help me with my older years.

I looked at the city pictures and said, "Brenna, I see gray hair, older people. I don't see many young ones." At that she said, "Mom, having me around my peers is YOUR dream, not mine. I like older people." 

Brenna was ready for her dream to come true. She had the idea of entertaining people downtown. She just knew if it rained, people would need to take shelter and the building she wanted to buy would be ideal to invite people in. During the months of her illness, I printed out the pictures of the building and showed them to her. I told her when the price changed that perhaps now it was within our price range. I began to dream of all that room for her rehabilitation equipment. 

I am reminded of her dream of the small Texas town when I see the three popcorn poppers, the tall table, and the special baking pans. She wanted to be there. She wanted to invite the people of the town to share our lives. 

Brenna could bake anything. Her first attempt at cream puffs had the touch of a pro. She made cream pies with meringue that stood 4-5 inches high. She made her first bread when she was 10 years old. She had a light hand, something I didn’t have. 

So many times as I looked at the results of her baking, I felt that somewhere between Heaven and earth, my dad, a master baker, had touched Brenna and sent her to me. Dad knew I had not inherited his baking skills. Brenna was the answer.