A SWEET STORY ABOUT ITALIAN COOKIES
An elderly Italian man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite Italian anisettesprinkle cookies wafting up the stairs.
Gathering his remaining strength, he lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the
wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort, gripping
the railing with both hands he crawled downstairs. With labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven. For there, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favorite anisette sprinkled cookies. Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted Italian wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in a crumpled posture. His parched lips parted, he could almost taste the wondrous flavour of the cookie, seemingly bringing him back to life.
The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a cookie at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife."Get out of here! " she shouted. "They're for the funeral."
An elderly Italian man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite Italian anisettesprinkle cookies wafting up the stairs.
Gathering his remaining strength, he lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the
wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort, gripping
the railing with both hands he crawled downstairs. With labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven. For there, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favorite anisette sprinkled cookies. Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted Italian wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in a crumpled posture. His parched lips parted, he could almost taste the wondrous flavour of the cookie, seemingly bringing him back to life.
The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a cookie at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife."Get out of here! " she shouted. "They're for the funeral."