The Comfort of a Weekend Bake Sale
The Comfort of a Weekend Bake Sale Every fall, my school hosts a bake sale to raise money for the art club, and this year, I decided to join in. I spent Saturday morning in the kitchen with my mom, baking chocolate chip cookies, brownies, and lemon bars—recipes we’d found in her old cookbook, the pages stained with chocolate and butter from years of use. By noon, we’d packed everything into pretty boxes, and I headed to the school gym, where tables were covered with colorful tablecloths and filled with treats from other students and parents. At first, I was nervous—what if no one bought my baked goods? But soon, people started stopping by. A little girl with pigtails asked for a cookie, and her mom bought a box of brownies. A teacher I liked, Mr. Carter, praised my lemon bars and said they tasted like his grandma’s. As I handed out treats and took money, I started chatting with people: some talked about their favorite desserts, others shared stories about past bake sales. Even when t...