It Just Disappeared

    “It Just Disappeared,” Friend, July 1985, 40

    “It Just Disappeared”

    Amy and her mother were finished baking. The cookies were cooling, all round and brown.

    “Why don’t I take one of these to Daddy,” said Amy. “He’s been working in the garden all morning.”

    “Good idea,” replied Mummy.

    Amy chose the cookie that had the most sugar and cinnamon on top. The edges she had scalloped with the cookie cutter were perfect. The cookie was bigger than the palm of her hand, and it felt warm.

    Amy went outside. She crinkled her eyes against the bright sunshine and looked for her father down in the garden. She could see his blue shirt just above the green rows of vegetables.

    Amy could smell freshly cut grass and the sweet scent of purple lilacs. She could also smell the cookie that she held in her hand. Amy’s mouth watered.

    I’ll just take one little bite, thought Amy. She took a bite out of one side of the cookie. Now the scalloped edges were lopsided. I’ll have to even it out, Amy thought as she took a bite out of the other side. The cookie melted like snowflakes on Amy’s tongue.

    She walked slowly down the path toward the garden. Peppy, Amy’s dog, was sleeping in the sun. As Amy walked past, he raised his head and sniffed. Then he got up and came begging.

    “Just a smidgen, Peppy. It’s for Daddy, but I know he won’t mind if I share it with you.” Amy broke off a piece for Peppy, and he gobbled it up. “I need a smidgen too,” Amy said. “Just to keep you company.” Amy ate another little bit of cookie.

    Now the cookie fit nicely into her hand. She could almost close her fingers around it. Amy walked under the flowering apple tree. The empty bird feeder hung from the lower branch.

    “I should share this cookie with the birds, too,” Amy said to Peppy. “They haven’t had a treat since the snow left. I’ll put some on the feeder.”

    Amy passed the fish pond. She stood for a moment, watching the orange fish dart in and out among the rocks. “Are you hungry, fish?” she asked. “Would you like a taste of my cookie?” Amy crumbled a piece and sprinkled it on the water. The fish rose to the surface, and the crumbs disappeared.

    Daddy will be so pleased that I saved him some, Amy thought as she reached the garden.

    Amy’s father was busy weeding. He didn’t look up right away.

    I’ll just have one more taste, Amy thought. She nibbled carefully all around the cookie.

    “Daddy,” she called. “I have a treat for you. I brought you one of the cookies Mummy and I baked.”

    Daddy stood up. He wiped his forehead with the back of his gloved hand. “I am rather hungry,” he said. “I’ve done a lot of weeding today.”

    Amy held out the cookie. But all that was left was a piece as big as Amy’s thumb. “Here. It was big when I started out, but it just disappeared along the way! First, Peppy wanted a taste, and then I gave the birds and the fish some,” she explained, adding, “I took a few teeny bites too.”

    “It must have tasted good,” said Daddy, smiling. “Thank you.”

    He took the little piece of cookie and popped it into his mouth. “Yes, delicious,” he said and laughed.

    Amy laughed too. “I’ll get you another one Daddy.”

    “Get two, Amy,” said her father. “One for me and one for you.”

    Illustrated by Shauna Mooney