A Cake to Remember

The King and I baked our first cake last night.

We grabbed Betty Crocker’s box out of the pantry.

We emptied the chocolate powder into the large red bowl.

We cracked our own eggs on the granite and then cautiously dribbled them into our own small white bowls.

We still haven’t figured out the art of shell-less cracking.

We mixed the shell-less eggs into the chocolate powder.

We filled our measuring cups up with water.

We learned to fill them to the brim.

We melted butter in the microwave.

We stirred our mixture and then poured it into the pyrex dish.

We even cleaned up after ourselves, placing the soiled dishes into the sink and the trash into the can.

We baked it.

We waited.

We ate it.

THIS cake.

Our cake.

It tasted like togetherness.

An undefinable and indescribable sweetness.

Just maybe, before I went to sleep, the tears spilled down my face.