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Cake Letter
By Stephanie Kemp
Cake Letter
By Stephanie Kemp
Dear Olivia and Frances,
I found a poem this morning.* I love it:
COLD SOLACE
by Anna Belle Kaufman
When my mother died,
one of her honey cakes remained in the freezer.
I couldn’t bear to see it vanish,
so it waited, pardoned,
in its ice cave behind the metal trays
for two more years.
On my forty-first birthday
I chipped it out,
a rectangular resurrection,
hefted the dead weight in my palm.
Before it thawed,
I sawed, with serrated knife,
the thinnest of slices —
Jewish Eucharist.
The amber squares
with their translucent panes of walnuts
tasted — even toasted — of freezer,
of frost,
a raisined delicacy delivered up
from a deli in the underworld.
I yearned to recall life, not death —
the still body in her pink nightgown on the bed,
how I lay in the shallow cradle of the scattered sheets
after they took it away,
inhaling her scent one last time.
I close my eyes, savor a wafer of
sacred cake on my tongue and
try to taste my mother, to discern
the message she baked in these loaves
when she was too ill to eat them:
I love you.
It will end.
Leave something of sweetness
and substance
in the mouth of the world.
_________________
When I am gone you can find me in a yellow box cake with chocolate frosting.** If you are missing me madly, eat it all. If you are struggling with something and wondering what I might say to you over the kitchen counter (and a hot breakfast!), have a small slice with a glass of milk and take your time. You will know what to do.
(But share the cake, no matter what. Even if that means smashing it into someone’s face, if they deserve it. You can always make more.)
Luh luh……………..
xxxxxxxxxxxxx Maman
*Read The Marginalian, if it still exists!
**You could also make gMa’s marble cake from scratch (if it’s the weekend) or chocolate chip cookies with sea salt (Cabin Grandma’s homemade or Tollhouse cheaters would both work…..just don’t forget the salt).