“Oh, Mom. No. Gemma’s the one allergic to nuts, not Amelia,” I said carefuly, holding the tin of still-warm freshly baked cookies in my hand.
Her face fell before scrunching back up in thought. “Are you sure? Gemma’s the one who doesn’t like strawberries, and Amelia’s allergic to peanut butter,” she replied with the surety of someone who wasn’t quite sure, but didn’t want to outright admit it.
“No, Mom. Gemma’s been allergic her whole life. Amelia will eat anything and Sam’s the one who doesn’t like strawberries. I’m sorry,” I said softly.
Her face slackened again and this time, the defeat and realization stayed there.
“It’s my memory again, isn’t it? I used to know what they liked and didn’t like, didn’t I?” she whispered, a wrinkled hand coming to cover her turned-down mouth.
I nodded, if only to keep the tears from spilling. “It’s okay, Mom. Look, you made her a card too and she will love that.” Then, I took a deep breath, smiled widely, and gave her a lop-sided hug. “But, I’m glad you remembered that peanut butter cookies are my favorite.”