I’ve never heard of it and truly can’t imagine.
Coconut in red velvet cake
Or anything other than cream cheese icing
Pecans on top.
Or a pound cake without a pound of butter
Or chocolate cake not thin like pancakes as layers.
I talked about my mama today.
Talked about her cake.
I had a moment where happiness became a tightening of my chest
And a catching in my throat.
A filling up of dampness in my eye.
But, mostly love.
The most amazing baker of cake I know, no disputing.
To my mama.
I miss you.
I love you.
I talk about your cake.
Talked about it last week with your sister, my Aunt Boo.
And today with two women who will
Never bake cake like you.
Coconut’s for birthdays, not red velvet.
It’s big tall cakes, fluffy white, opulently rich.
Special, it was mine.
Your granddaughter, my daughter, bakes cakes.
Cooks with love like you.
That’s the secret, you said.
Happy Mother’s Day in heaven, mama.
I hope you’re bakin’ cakes.
Coconut, caramel, red velvet and pound.