Now that I’m grown, I can remember quite a few of the old spiritual songs my aunt use to sing and hum. She was short, and slightly on the chubby side, so we called her Aunt Little Bit, and oh, could she bake! My favorite dessert was her delicious buttered raisin roll casserole.
She would always say, “you all better learn how to cook this raisin roll, because I’m not going to be around forever.” I, on the other hand, didn’t learn to make it since cooking wasn’t my forte.
My cousin enjoyed cooking and I actually thought she would be the one to carry on this legacy. Seems as though she could never get it right, but she did come close.
The buttered raisin roll would actually melt in your mouth. I can remember the day my cousin and I ate so much we thought we would literally burst. Even if someone paid us, we couldn’t eat another bite, afterwards we were prepared to take a nap. A couple of hours later, I decided to sneak back to the kitchen for the last delicious morsel. To my amazement, my cousin had the same idea. Oh, how we both scrambled over the last little pieces imbedded in the crevasses of that pan.
This reminded me of a pack of dogs snarling and fighting over a piece of meat, normally when I ate my aunt’s buttered raisin roll casserole, I always had a tall glass of milk.
To this day I sure wish I’d taken the time to learn how to make that scrupulous, buttered raisin roll casserole. Well, needless to say, no one in my family learned how to make it.
I’m pretty sure if she would have entered her famous raisin roll in a baking contest, she would have definitely won first prize without a doubt.
Aunt Little Bit took her famous recipe with her when God finally called her home. These memories will always stay in my mind forever.
Thank you Aunt Little Bit for all those stories, you shared and repeated many times. She would always ask me, “don’t you get tired of me telling you the same stories over and over again? To be honest, yes I did, but I would never hurt her feelings telling her yes.
I could tell by the look in her eyes the joy she got out of me sitting on the floor at her feet. Her little stubby fingers would be crocheting, working the small needle, such joy radiating from her face.
Maybe there was a reason she kept telling me those stores, now I can remember all of them as if it was yesterday. It has been many years since she’s been gone.
Page 2 of 2 - Thank you, Aunt Little Bit, for everything. I know you’re gone, but you’ll never be forgotten! I miss you! I love you!