I feel a chill in the air. Time for fall cleaning, making soup, and Auntie’s secret cake. I never tried baking the cake, but I enjoyed the taste of it when I was younger. Not sure I have what it takes. Patience. Time. Energy. But when I think of my aunt I’m remembering the hours she spent in the kitchen making wonderful cakes and other desserts that smelled so inviting. But her secret cake was the best. Fragrant vanilla or chocolate layers with lemon pudding between them and frosted with butter cream sent my tastebuds singing when I was a kid.
Yum! The perfect word to describe this delicacy. Her secret? Vanilla or chocolate wafers gently and precisely inserted beneath the bottom layer to heighten the finished appearance and to prop up any areas that didn’t rise properly. I’m chuckling just thinking about it. I don’t know how many people knew Auntie’s secret. I just know that I felt special when she confessed it to me. I miss my aunt and her sweet smile, lilting voice, and secret cake.
How is it that after people die we appreciate them more than we did when they were alive? Or remember with fondness the things they were known for? I don’t have an answer to that. But I know for me it’s often true.
Suddenly lightning strikes and nothing is the same ever again. All the more reason to live in the moment and to relish it, for it will never pass this way again—nor will the people we loved and cherished, once they are gone.
Help me, Lord, to be here now and to give my best to each moment, to each person, to myself, and most of all to you. That’s one ‘secret’ I want to share with everyone I meet.