Sunflower Skins

July 6, 2010

Experiment 6: Mother

Filed under: experiments, prose — Tags: , — Sunflower Skins @ 12:36 am

She was the Cake of all Cakes.

My mother, the most beautiful, well-spoken, and intelligent of any of the Susie Homemakers. Truly, she was exceptional in every way—and exhibited this through her exquisite desserts. Lemon Tart, Peach Pie, Blueberry Cheesecake—and of course—her famous Marmorkuchen. The desserts were only icing to the grandest Wedding Cake in the bakery.

Memories I have are few, however I retain a fairly constant sense of her presence. I remember: learning to bake my first Chocolate Chip Cookies. I was about 2 ½. Mother, glowing as usual, had me cracking Eggs in her soft hands and getting Flour on my cheeks. She instructed me carefully—but not at all in a condescending, parental tone—she sounded like an angel. A light and fluffy, sweet and good-looking angel from the great bakery beyond this world.

The Cookies turned out perfectly, as expected. Soft and golden brown, chewy with great gobs of Chocolate.

We made Brownies next.

And continued to make desserts all morning, eventually filling up the glass display case  behind the counter. All together they looked radiant—so colourful and appetizing.

Of course, I don’t remember the entire day. But I remember the Chocolate Chip Cookies; the smell of my mother—a mixture of baby powder and baking powder; and my father saying, “Cheese!” There is a photograph of my mother and me, mixing bowl and wooden spoons in hand, gleefully posing for the camera. It once hung in the restaurant; now it hangs in my kitchen.

My memories, I keep them as close as her.


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