Saturday, March 17, 2012
You waited after all the carpool clowns had climbed out of the car and started up the street, ignoring my goodbyes.
I turned to the open car door and there you stood, looking at me expectantly.
"Have a good day," I said, knowing that I love yous are not so welcomed in public.
You gave me a slight smile, and a nod. Acknowledging me acknowledging you. Then you turned and walked to school.
It made me happy, remembering that one moment you had turned back, waiting just to say goodbye. To acknowledge I was there. I've given you speeches about the importance of social niceties to make people feel valued. But they are just speeches. Today I knew in my heart what that really means. Thank you.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
This is the last piece of lemon cake.
I made it a week ago for friends, put it on a cake plate and displayed it dusted with powdered sugar. We ate pieces drizzled with lemon glaze and berries and cream and coffee. It was a happy evening. Only half a cake was left at the end.
It sat, under the glass dome all week, slowly piece by piece slivered away. Maia and I ate it while we planned a mystery dinner she wants to do with her grandmother, while we watched “Smash,” while I obsessed over the best prices for our family vacation.
All week it’s made me happy looking at that lemon cake, so yellow, so elegant, so tasty. Yes, I am one of those. Food makes me happy. Not in large quantities, but in succulent servings. Flavor enjoyed in suspended moments of pleasure.
The sight of a lemon cake waiting, drenched, soaking in the sweet tanginess of lemon glaze -- how could I not be happy?
The last piece of lemon cake. I ate it today.