Hazel - Minimarts

Flour coated the walls. The ceiling. The wisps were even covered in the dusty dregs. I stood, looking at it all, and wondering how one would get a glob of dough to hang from the ceiling above like a chandelier. Was it the chandelier? A loud shriek kept me from answering my own question.  

We were raising wild hens. That’s what Hazel and I claimed. When we had our son, we had vowed that other than rules to help keep him safe, we would let him roam. Explore. Less than a year later, we had another boy, and had the same ideals. Of course, this was all decided before they had learned how to walk or talk. Now, with them both older, I was pretty certain that we had no idea what we were getting into as parents and maybe needed to rethink our vision a bit more. Especially since Hazel was encouraging them to bake within the kitchen.

“Boys?”

I heard them both giggling from under the table. Crouching down, I looked into the small cave they had created. The two of them were down to just their shorts, covered in sugar, with a spoon of cake batter in each of their hands.

“Where’s mom?” I asked, breathing deeply to keep my voice even.

They both had that little glint in their eye. The one that said they were up to mischief. “We’re hiding,” our oldest whispered. Dough Monster One and who I was sure was the instigator of whatever this was. He had Hazel’s coloring but he had my hair. It was his eyes that spoke of his true heritage. Small glowing lanterns that burned brightly with heightened emotion. Meanwhile, his brother, Doubt Monster Two, was all smiles and dark eyes but was the spitting image of me.

“Is it hide and seek time?” I asked.

They both shushed me again.

Behind me, the door to the bedroom opened. A small ‘oh’ sounded and I turned to see Hazel standing there, taking in the state of our home just as I had. She had a crease on the side of her face that said she had only just woken up.  

I pointed to the table where our culprits lay in wait.

Walking over, she sat down on the floor, staring at them. “What were you two attempting to make?” she asked.

“Cookies!” they both shouted.

“Do cookies require this much mess?”

Hazel shot me a look that clearly said for me to rethink my tone. I looked at her though with wide eyes. She couldn’t possibly be okay with the state of our kitchen and living room. The wisps were turning red with anger just outside the window.

“Look, mama!” Dough Monster One exclaimed in glee. He was grinning, one tooth missing. “We made them for you for your name day!”

“My name day isn’t for another two weeks,” she said.

Both the boys stared at her. “Oh.” The disappointment in that single sigh was nearly heartbreaking. Even I was not immune.

But Hazel just laughed. It was a marvel to me. Reaching under the table, she grabbed the two of them, hauling them both out, uncaring of the mess that was getting all over her. “Where are the cookies, though? I am a bit hungry.”

They scrambled away from her and went to the counter. My heart nearly dropped at the idea of them using the oven but Hazel had enchanted the wisps long ago to monitor their behavior near the stove and stop anything that could hurt them. 

Sure enough, a batch of cookies was piled on a plate. Some attempt to decorate them had been done, and pink and green frosting coated the little blobs in an effort to make a rose.

“Happy birthday!” the boys shouted.

Hazel gasped, clapping in delight.

I fell in love with her all over again in these moments. Because that was Hazel. Our house was a mess, the boys had nearly destroyed everything we worked so hard to keep nice, and yet, she was sitting on the ground, her skirt fanned out around her with our two children in her lap, munching on cookies they had made for her.  They were all three covered in flour and sugar now. The rug was ruined. And the cookies looked less than appetizing. Yet, I couldn’t help but feel as if I was the luckiest individual in all the realm because I couldn’t imagine my life any different from this.

Hazel turned to me, holding out her hand. “Come sit with us,” she grinned.

“Cookie time!” they both shouted.

With a sigh, I gave into the chaos. I always would. And I sat on the floor with my family, feeling unbelievably lucky for what I had managed to create with them.