Melanie: That's sweet of you, but don't feel obligated.

Me: I'm not going to be able to eat all this, and I don't want it to go bad.

Melanie: Okay, thanks. Just leave it outside our door so you don't get sick.

Me: No problem.

I package everything in containers I saved when I cleaned out my grammy's house. They keep the food warm, and I stare at the worn-out fabric. It's off-white with little turkeys on it. It's another bittersweet feeling.

I stop myself from getting on another pity-party train and text Melanie.

Me: Hey, I'm leaving in five minutes. Can you make sure I get my containers back? These were my grammy's.

Melanie: Of course. I'll take good care of them.

Me: Thanks.

I find a box and put everything in it. Then I take everything to my car. I drive to Melanie's, ring her bell, put everything on the front porch, then text her.

Me: Food's here.

Melanie: Thanks, girl. I'm so sorry, again.

Me: It's okay. Just get better.

I return to my apartment and stare at the wall.

What am I going to do now?

I should just crawl into bed and forget about this entire day.

"That's not the answer," my grammy's voice states in my head.

The empty, lonely, depressed feeling that I hate continues to grow. I almost get trapped in it and go into my bedroom, but I stop myself.

Maybe I should go to work.

"It's a holiday," my grammy reprimands.

I say out loud, "At least if I go to the office, I can get more caught up on the backlog of work."

My grammy tsks me, and it's so vivid I shudder.

"At least Mr. Grumpy Pants won't be there," I add.

No matter what I do to convince myself to go, I can't get my grammy's horrified expression out of my head. Then I hear her say, "Bake. It's what you love best. You'll feel better if you bake."

Deciding it's better to use my free time on something I love, I pull out ingredients and debate about what to make.

Tomorrow's Black Friday. Make something fun for the day.

It's funny how I've never gone shopping on Black Friday. My grammy taught me how to watch my pennies, but she and I always spent the day preparing the house for Christmas and baking cookies, fudge, and other holiday treats.

Tomorrow I have to work. We have several important meetings with bigwigs who are in town for the holiday. So I try to remember how many people will be at each meeting. Then I add in the staff who always eat them. By the end of the afternoon, I have six dozen double chocolate fudge cupcakes with dark chocolate frosting. And just like my grandma stated in my head, I do feel better.