The Muffins

The stiff page creaked with age as I gingerly lifted it. I marveled at the precise slant of my grandmother's handwriting as each entry danced across the pages.

“What do you have that for?” my sister asked as she came into the kitchen.

“I'm looking for Gramma's recipe for those muffins,” I answered.

Kate refilled her mug from the coffee maker and came over to the kitchen table. She tilted her head to read over my shoulder. “Muffins?” she frowned. “Well, I see you've got two problems right off.”

I squinted up at her. “Really?” I smirked. “Only two?”

“Quit your whining,” Kate sat down across from me. “First of all, that's the meat and poultry part of Gramma's notebook. You'll be hard-pressed to find any muffins there.”

“This book is so old and is falling apart,” I explained. “I was going slowly to keep it from crumbling to pieces.”

“Yeah,” Kate sighed back. “One of us should type these recipes before they're a pile of dust.”

“Some of these go way back,” I said. “Look at this one for saurbraten. In her notes, she says that she learned it from translating her great-grandmother's recipe. From German!'

“Saurbraten aside, you still won't find any recipes for muffins in there,” Kate said.

“Why not?” I demanded.

“Gramma never made muffins.”

“Of course she did!” I cried. “ The ones with the sugar and cinnamon coating? They were as light as a feather!”

“Maybe in your dreams,” Kate scoffed, “but Gramma never baked. Well, not after that birthday cake fire, that is.”

“Oh, that.”

“Poor Gramma,” Kate said. “Who knew frosting could burn like that?”

“So, no muffins?” I asked.

Kate shrugged. “Mom baked. Ask her.”



word count: 298
Prompt: Use the words page, dream and feather