In the afternoon that day, Ruby texted me, "If you want, you could bring me one of Michelle's cookies." (The night before, Michelle Fitz had dropped off a plate of the coveted goodies so that the Chinese girls could experience America properly!)
I rushed to the school to find the girls in the dark auditorium watching some staging. Ruby took the time to sit by me and whisper for a few minutes. Our conversation was mostly about chocolate chip cookies. How good they are, how it defies all reason, and how comforting it is to receive them. We marveled at my friends' generosity and goodness, and how all of that is exemplified in one of Michelle's cookies.
Every moment with Ruby is burnished by the knowledge that she is leaving soon. I would bring her a cookie and sit with her every single day if I could. When I lived for a semester in Paris in 9th grade, chocolate chip cookies were what I missed most about home. Every Sunday evening, Nana Ruby had her cookies set out for us, in a shirt box from ZCMI, the layers separated by wax paper. How I depended on those cookies! In Paris, I periodically would schlepp clear across town to Les Halles where there was a Laura Todd cookie store, similar to Mrs. Field's. I'd breathe in the baking smell and think of my family.
I don't know what Ruby will think of when she's away from home, but I do know that I'll remember that moment in the auditorium, because it represents so many moments. A whole childhood of dance and music and cookies. That night, as I watched the girls dance, I tried not to think of all their past performances. I definitely tried not to picture their chubby 8-year-old legs in my class, some of them, adding their first plies and tendus to their repertoire. I avoided remembering back to the moment we saw the first Dance Company list that Ruby was on.
I just basked in the moment of beauty and gave thanks for all of it.
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