A journey to a destination unknown, however long, is still a journey – is it not?
Is it possible that it is the journey
alone that matters?
I care not.
I do not know what awaits me at my
destination. I am not a planner, but in some ways I
could be the antithesis. For I know what I don’t want.
Cake.
Ok – I lied. Everyone likes cake – and
those that do not, simply cannot be trusted. It crumbles they may cry in defiance – they will claim they’re biscuit people, expecting me to believe
in their twaddle. But they are wrong – they believe in nothing – for there is
only cake – or no cake at all.
In the beginning I did not understand cake,
but those with older wiser heads than mine nodded, and said nothing. The truth
would come – as it does to all of us in the end.
When I saw cake as it truly was for the first
time, I loved it for what it was, but like so much cake before it, an asshole I knew stole it from my grasp, while I was out of town on my Christmas holiday. But that was a Christmas cake – and
a story for another day.
So many (many) years later, I look at Cake
with a fond heart, but no stomach for it’s empty promises of fulfillment.
I’ve seen the cake that’s bad for you; the
cake that you devour and instantly regret. I’ve watched cake spoil – left too
long unattended to the elements. I’ve seen cake that costs too much, and
delivers far too little.
There are too many to count. And I do not
count.
Cake is for optimists, Cake is for
dreamers. Cake is not for those who calculate, or those who attempt to curry
their favours. (Curry is a condiment you see).
Cake is a young persons crumpet, or perhaps
more correctly, Cake is for the young of heart.
Cake is not for the old. Cake is for the
bold.
Today I find myself thinking of Cake –
perhaps the most rare cake of all. Perhaps only a promise of a Cake yet to be,
waiting for the right combination of ingredients come together, to make a sum
better than its parts.
And today of all days, my love - may your birthday cake be a good one .
