Birthday Cake

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 .