Banana Bread

I tried studying his face while he spoke on the phone. It had been 12 hours since we'd heard any news.

Normally I can hear the conversation because her excited voice carries through the 680 km of airwaves to his cell phone and loud enough for me to hear sitting next to him. Not tonight.

"Why didn't you call?" in a frustrated tone. Does he normally chew his bottom lip? Are his eyes welling up or is that the lighting in the room?

"When will you know?" in an anxious tone. He lets go of my hand. Am I making it worse by watching him?

I leave and go to the kitchen. I open my recipe book to the banana bread page and immediately start throwing the ingredients into a large bowl. Not in order. I didn't sift the flour. I had no vanilla extract but used homemade vanilla sugar instead. That looked about a quarter cup. Blend. Butter pan. Pour mixture into pan. Bake at 350 for 60 minutes. Wash, wash, scrub dishes. Clean countertop. I feel better. At least if I have to go anywhere tomorrow I can bring a banana bread. Banana bread helps everything. As a recent recipient of one of my banana breads noted: Banana bread is the greatest stuff ever as it serves as a snack, breakfast or dessert. It's a disorganized mother's best pal. A disorganized mother and an anxious girl.

I'm an anxious eater. And apparently an anxious baker.