I came home from a long day of work last week ready to crash into bed and dread the beep of my alarm.

I shivered all the way to my apartment, fumbling with my keys.

Then I opened the door.

A Priority Mailer box plopped to the ground and I smiled.

Cookies.

Since my freshman year in college, my grandparents have sent me a package of cookies. The familiar red, white and blue box always seemed to come at the right time. The cookies helped me through tests, papers and chocolate cravings. And now long days at work.

Most of the time, they send chocolate chip and peanut butter chip cookies, always soft and chewy.

And I'm not the only one that can't resist them.

I set the first box I got freshman year on the coffee table in my room so my three other roommates could help me finish the box of two dozen.

At first they were somewhat reluctant, just taking one or two.

That quickly changed.

One of my roommates always helped herself to three or more in one sitting.

Once she defied all roommate civility and ate the last one.

It got to the point where one of my other roommates and I would put half in a container in the cupboard and put the other half out for her to eat.

She often joked that my grandparents should send her a box of her own.

When she went to school in Spain for a year and a half, we sent her a care package including just-sent chocolate chip cookies.

I'm sure they were pretty dried out by the time they got to Madrid.

But all she told us was that they were good and thanked us.

Now you may be thinking, 'OK crazy girl, they're just cookies. What's the big deal?'

First of all, they're almost impossible to replicate.

After freshman year, one of my roommates asked for the recipe. She tried to make them, but they didn't turn out right. She thinks she left them in the oven too long because they didn't turn out soft enough.

I also have the recipe, but have never tried to make them. There's no way they would be the same.

Now that I live alone, I sometimes wish my roommate was here to help me finish them.

When the package comes in the mail, it's only me that gets excited. My roommate through all four years of college used to insist I open them right as soon as I walked in the door.

I tore open the box as soon I got home last week. They were pretty cold and hard from sitting in the cold all day. But I heated two up in the microwave and savored every bite.

Those cookies calmed me down and took the stress of the day away.

What makes the cookies special is the thought behind them. It shows that my grandparents are thinking about me and making sure I'm doing OK.

That's what makes them more than just a box of chocolate chip cookies.

Cari Quam can be reached at 434-2235 or by e-mail at :mailto:cari.quam@austindailyherald.com