Biscuits

She put her left hand to her chest, then placed her palms together (as if praying), and then extended her right hand into the dough itself. Sonja watched as Edith did this over and over (when she put in the flour, then the sugar and, finally, the milk and eggs). "Let me guess," Sonja sighed, "all of the hocus pocus results in lighter, fluffier biscuits." Edith laughed. "I wish," she replied, smiling, "but no; that's up to physics and focus. I'm just adding extra love - all that I can spare." Sonja fought the overwhelming desire to roll her eyes, and rubbed her face instead. "My mother never baked," Sonja said eventually. "I know," Edith responded gently. "I can tell." She reached out with a freshly baked cookie for her friend to take with tea and, although Sonja did not believe in mystical mumbo jumbo, there was something tender and forgiving in the gesture.