Someone's Someone

Distinctly. As if it were just last week, I can remember calling up my grandmother for help with recipes. My mother doesn't cook, so I'd call my Mamaw Doe. Before the internet, before I owned five hundred cookbooks, I'd call my Mamaw with the simplest question.

"How much peanut butter do I put in the families chocolate fudge recipe?"

I'm sure I could have probably figured it out. Honestly.

The answer?

"Oh about 3/4 of a cup or so... something like that, you'll be able to tell"

Truthfully, I think the split second idea of just wanting to talk to my grandmother, not to make her feel needed, but for me to feel taken care of maybe. Just knowing I could call and ask a small question, and get some love on the other end of the line. I call my mommy, even though I'm 29 years old, when I don't feel good. I don't really need help, or someone to walk down the block to my house to put a band aid on my finger, but it's incredibly comforting to be babied sometimes.

About an hour ago I was baking peanut butter cookies. While they were baking, I went to change into comfy pajamas and get ready for cookies then bed time. I baked them for my husband, and my sweet friend who's visiting. She was just shocked that out of no where I could "whip up" homemade peanut butter cookies. The dogs were quite excited too since they know they can have peanut butter.
While in our room, getting into pajamas I acknowledged the framed photo smiles of my grandmother and great grandmother on our dresser. I smiled back at them. Then, the phone rang. MY phone. We all have cell phones, not a "home phone." When you have a cell phone it means someone is calling YOU. Not just calling for anyone.
It was my step son. Almost 22 years old. Calling with a question about how exactly I make my sweet tea.
How many tea bags? How much sugar?
I've answered this question twelve times for him in the past.
He also needed to tell me his throat hurt, and that he's taken ibuprofen and allergy medicine. He needed some love and attention.
I will tell you, no matter how much my sweet tea advice, and sympathetic love for him feeling yucky, made him feel a little better, it could never compare to how enormous my heart swelled with joy.
I was someone's help for a simple little question. The person who he actually called "mom," Even though I'm only 8 years older. He's our son. We sent him to Iraq to fight the war. He can tackle anyone in a football game better than some pro's. He could save the world, and I see my husband in him, which makes me love him more. So this man... no longer a boy, found the little boy inside him and called his "Step Mom" just to ask how to make sweet tea.
I was someone's person to call. The person to call when someone just needed someone to give them some love and to know that someone was there.
When I hung up the phone, I looked at the smiling pictures of my grandmother's again. I was more than honored that I could be someone's someone. I still need a someone, but tonight I was someone's mom. Someone's advice giver. Someone to throw some love someone's way.
The smile is still on my face.

*Extra Extra!*
Guess who's stepdaughter needed to know the very next day how I make my chicken and dressing? Same warm fuzzy feelings all over again. I am SOMEONE'S go to person. I mean something... and if it's just for food, thats fine with me. ;)