My mother became very sick unexpectedly. None of us were fully prepared for the fact that we would lose her, and despite a brutally fought battle, lose her we did. Our hearts have been broken while we've tried to figure out what to do, as she has always been the one with the master family plan.
I've spent so much time since her passing the first weekend of this year just trying to keep all the pieces of the puzzle of my life, which now includes helping my father adjust to taking care of himself, that I have failed to see any sunshine. My laugh has been hollow and forced. My smile present but waning. Today I realized it is time to get on with the business of life, and more importantly, it is time to laugh again. It is time to smile, and it is time to look at the sunshine.
So, where better to start that with Little Sunshine, herself? I needed to bake a cake, and I decided to try a recipe I have never used before. As I started to get out the ingredients, my darling girl begged to help. I told her she could not help if she did not go shower that nasty body of hers, and that she had better hurry as I was not going to wait.
I saw a blur run past me on her way to the shower. I heard the water start to run. And, then this child, who fights us everyday to avoid a shower, but once in rarely completes the bathing process in under 45 minutes, jumped in and started to sing. And sing. And sing.
I pulled out all of the ingredients, knowing she wouldn't be out for another 30 minutes at least. But as I listened to that sweet voice, I decided maybe I could wait. The butter needed to come to room temperature anyway.
At last she was out and asking if I had waited. Her smile when she saw that I had waited brought a real smile to my face. She's "helped" me in the kitchen before, but this time we slowed down, and I let her do more. I guided, she followed instructions. I passed on tips, why I did things in the order I did, and we smiled and laughed. She now knows that it is worthwhile to pay extra for Mexican vanilla, and a recipes are really only guides. Her mama demonstrated for her how to measure using her hands, just as my mama taught me, but she'll have to wait until her hands are big enough and she's done it enough to do it on her own. She learned that you learn the principles and then don't be afraid to get creative, and a box cake can never, ever, ever claim a place even close to that of a from-scratch cake. It just doesn't have the love, and love is an essential ingredient for baking. In the end, we created a cake batter worthy of my mama and grandmamas.
I asked her to test it, and she did, declaring it to have fantastic taste and texture. (Perhaps she's watched too many baking shows on food network with me.)
We're taking it to a potluck after church tomorrow, and we couldn't be happier with how it turned out. How it tastes is really not the point, the laughs and smiles were really all we needed.
Comments
Post a Comment