By Karen Lauritzen
She arrived at my front door with a large container under each arm. One container held the prepared dough for her Sicilian Grandmother’s Fig Cookie recipe, the other the filling. It was December, 2010 and this woman would join a group of others in my home for a day of Christmas baking, “Hi, I’m Mary Margaret,” she paused, then added, “Haven’t we met?” We had not. I took in the energy that seemed to swirl around her, “Well, you do look familiar.” Yes, there was something. Oh, well. Maybe it’s just that we’re both Italian and she reminds me my nine beloved Italian aunts. But it was much more than that. Over the next three years she would profoundly influence my life in ways I could never imagine.