Last night, my older sister, Susanne, spent the evening with a friend. They shared two movies, laughter, and the secret pain of having a severely disabled child. Just last year, my nephew drowned in a backyard swimming pool. He's alive, but his life and my sister's family is forever changed. But Susanne and Craig have been surrounded by friends. Friends who flew out to Florida to sit with them during the nights and days they waited by baby Ryan's hospital bedside.
When my husband's dad died 18 months ago, Ryan's two best friends flew from Colorado to Pennsylvania to drive him back home in his dad's car. I remember the wave of relief that washed over me when I saw them pull up to the church on that cold January morning. They enveloped him (and me) in their arms, and we sank, we cried, we let ourselves rest.
This past March, when my oldest sister and nephew died in a car accident, we were surrounded by friends. Friends in Austin, friends in Colorado, friends in Houston. I sat on a picnic bench at the university with my friend Gretchen, and she held me as I cried. My friend Moriah called me from Japan. Abby sent packages. Laura, Lindsay and Sara offered to fly out. Gwynne took me out to coffee and just let me sit and process and find no words.
Joe and Melissa came knocking on my mom's door the night after the accident happened. My dad was with me in Florida, and my mom was waiting a few days before flying out. They couldn't reach her on her cell phone, so they came, they waited, they held her in their arms as soon as she opened the front door.
Just two months ago, I watched our youngest sister marry her high-school sweetheart. She stood with a group of beautiful girls and young men. Friends and family that joined with them in celebrating the start of their new life. She laughed, she danced, she sang with them. Friendship in its most jubilant form.
On Friday, my dear friend Gwynne packed up her car and made the long drive from Austin to Colorado. Over the course of this year, I've met a few amazing women here in Texas (Kate, Gretchen and Gwynne...I love you all). I didn't cry until she left, and then I sat in the car and let a hefty dose of tears out.
After you lose someone, someone so immediate as a sister, you begin to look at your relationships in a new light. You think about saying goodbye more than saying hello. You think about all the things you want to say, all the thank-yous, love-yous, miss yous.
I knew when I sat down to write tonight, I would talk about my friends. I spend quite a few paragraphs on my family, and I could easily write books on their joys and pains. But I know that no one in my family would still be standing if it wasn't for the amazing people that have surrounded us during these trials. I know that many of you read my blog.
So thank you. Thank you for being there. Thank you for sending notes. Thank you for talking to me, crying with me, laughing with me, sitting with me. Thank you for putting down your pen, putting away your phone, stopping for a few hours to sit with someone who needed a shoulder. We are all thankful. We are all blessed.
These pear and buttermilk scones are a representation of friendship. I received this scone mix from my friend Evan, and sweet Gwynne couldn't leave Austin without giving me a basket of pears to remind me of her love. I borrowed this recipe from Evan's site, and I imagine it is pretty close to the mix she left with me last weekend.
These scones are perfect with a cup of coffee, even better with a friend. I hope you can make them and enjoy them with someone you love. There is no better thing in the world.
1 3/4 cups flour- plus a little for rolling1 TBS plus 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 tsp salt
6 TBS chilled unsalted butter, cut in pieces
1/2 cup pears, patted dry and tossed with a TBS of flour
1 tsp cinnamon
1 TBSP sugar
1 cup buttermilk- plus some for brushing
A handful of almonds, ground.
1. Preheat your oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. In a large mixing bowl with a paddle attachment, mix flour, baking powder, sugar and salt. Sprinkle pieces of butter on top and place bowl in freezer for 5 minutes. Meanwhile, toss your pears in flour and sprinkle with cinnamon and 1 TBSP sugar.
2. Beat the flour and butter mixture on medium speed until butter is broken into pebble sized pieces (you can also use your hands or a pastry cutter).
3. Add pears and mix until incorporated and distributed. Fold in buttermilk, mixing until dough begins to come together. Use your hands to complete this process and turn out dough on lightly floured surface (if your dough doesn't seem stable enough add a little more flour.)
4. Roll dough into circle about 3/4 inch thick. Using a sharp knife, cut the dough into wedges like you would a pie. Place wedges on a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. Brush lightly with buttermilk.
5. Bake scones in oven for 15 minutes, or until lightly golden. Remove to a wire rack and allow to cool before serving.
