The coconut was sweetened, though it should not have been.
After wandering the length of two grocery stores, I gave up my search for the flaky fruit in its more natural state and resigned myself to a seven ounce bag of the generic brand, sweetened.
It had been raining all day, a thick persistent drizzle that seemed to absorb the dust on the earth causing the dim grey of the air and the slate grey of the sky to meld together till the two were indistinguishable.
The house was quiet when I returned home, not because it was empty, but because mother and brothers were all equally affected by the deep gloom of the afternoon.
I held up the bag of coconut and motioned for my brother to set his iPad aside and follow me into the kitchen. "Come on," I whispered, "Let's redeem this day."
Though I hesitated to break the soft silence, it only took a few long pulses of the food processor before the almonds were ground into flour and then deftly combined with coconut, sugar, flour and chocolate a la this recipe from the Sprouted Kitchen.
Husband, as patiently tolerant as he is when I feed him kale or collard greens, adamantly prefers gluten in his cookies, so I substituted half the almond flour with whole wheat flour for his sake. I also added half the amount of sugar since the coconut was, alas, already sweetened.
It was still raining when I pulled the sheet of cookies out of the oven and brother hastily snatched at the melted chocolate and almond morsels.
"Is the day better?" I asked.
"Mmmm." he replied.
Which was really all that he needed to say.