My grandma, the miracle worker

That’s the only way to describe her.

Ever since I was a little kid, she’d make these brownies that are the most amazing things I’ve ever eaten. They’re so moist, with a layer of melted powdered sugar, topped by a layer of hardened chocolate. PHENOMENAL. I haven’t had them in years, because she lives in Wisconsin and only occasionally brought them with her when she came out to Colorado for mine or my siblings’ birthdays. Now that I’m in college on the other coast entirely, I was fairly certain I would never have those brownies again, because all the sibling birthdays for which she and my grandpa will make the trek to my house occur while I’m in school, and they’ll never have any reason to come all the way out here.

Today, I went to check my mail, and instead of an empty mailbox as is usually the case, I found a neon orange package slip. A birthday gift arrived a few days early, apparently. I’d told my mom to tell the grandparents that all I want for my birthday, as an impoverished college student, was money, so I was a bit confused as to why I had an actual package instead of just a card with a check inside.

But when I got back to my room and opened the package, lo and behold, what should greet me but an inch-and-a-half thick, foil-wrapped rectangle, which I peeled open to reveal the most beautiful thing I have seen in ages, Grandma’s famous triple-layer brownies themselves!

I’d asked her once last year if she’d be able to send me some of those one day, but she said there was no way they’d survive the trip cross-country (roughly 2,074 miles, according to Google Maps). Yet lo and behold, here they were, fully intact, even still slightly chilled.

I gave one to my roomie, whose eyes about popped out of her head as she exclaimed “I didn’t know a brownie could taste so good!” My suitemate’s reaction was about the same.

I don’t know how, but my grandma certainly worked a miracle today.

I doubt those brownies will live to see the weekend.

My grandma, the miracle worker

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