Good Bye, Barbara Jean...

I grew up in a happy little town in northern Utah, in a happy little neighborhood. My childhood best friend, Mandy, lived right next door. We had picnics and played with our Cabbage Patch Kids and rode our bikes, and life was bliss.

Almost every Sunday in my youth, I'd walk around the block to visit my friend, Barbara. She was an older(ish) lady ("older" is a relative term, especially when you're, like, eight years old yourself). Sometimes Mandy would visit with me, sometimes one or two of my brothers would come, and sometimes I went by myself.

Barbara always had a dish full of candy, ready to share her lemon drops or root beer barrels, or whatever it was that week.

And she was also fun to talk to. She was a chatter box, but she also genuinely cared what was going on in my puny little prepubescent life. I loved her.

Also, during the summer months, I'd visit her more frequently. And we would bake.

Did I forget to mention? Barbara was a FANTASTIC baker. INCREDIBLE!What's the absolutely most fantastic adjective you can come up with? I'm gonna go with...scrumtrulescent. Yep. Barbara's food was scrumtrulescent.

Anyway, like I was saying: Barbara was a great lady. She let me come over and invade her kitchen. Sometimes we'd make cookies. Sometimes cinnamon rolls, or cake (which she let me decorate), or maybe brownies.

Oh. My. Goodness. Barbara's brownies are the best. Honestly? I've had a lot of brownies in my life (don't ask), and Barabara's brownie recipe is my favorite. Ever. Period. (They are especially delicious if you add some toffee bits on top, just before putting it in the oven. Oh yes!)

Also, sometimes I'd go over with my mama. We'd visit. And in the summer, Barbara struck a deal with Mom; my mama would pick Barbara's blackberries (not a fun task, quite honestly), and she'd give Barbara a portion of the berries, and take the rest home for herself (meaning for her family--us. ME!) And Mom would make homemade blackberry jam, and occasionally pie. YUM!

Anyway...as I grew up, I visited Barbara less and less. (Isn't that sad?)

But. As I grew up and moved up and away from my life in small-town Utah and the lovely little neighborhood of my youth, Barbara still cared. Every time I went home to visit my parents, Barbara always asked me how I was doing. She asked if I was dating (sometimes a sensitive subject), and wanted to know what was going on in my life.

On February 4th, my sweet Barbara friend passed away.

I cannot express to you how shocked I was to hear this news. I had talked to Barbara just a few weeks before. She was happy and spunky and a little bit nosy about my life (it's how I knew she cared).

I guess she woke up that morning not feeling well. Her son went to check up on her that evening, and found her "asleep" in her chair. A peaceful way to go...

I went to her funeral last Friday, and as sad as I was for myself (and for her son and his family, and every person who knew her), I am so happy for her! She's been reunited with her husband (she was a widow for many, many years), and she's well and happy!

But I'm going to miss her. It's going to feel so strange to go to church with my folks...and not see Barbara, to chat with her, and answer her questions, or give her a hug...

But you better believe I'll think of her every time I make her brownies, or bake some bread or cinnamon rolls. Or blackberry jam. Yes, I'll think of Barbara often. And I'll think of her fondly.

I love you, Barbara Jean!