Have your cakepublished: 2009-07-13
Here’s the thing though. While on holiday I spent some time rewriting a scene while my man and son went to Lisbon. They returned with cakes for me. I liked what was happening to the scene that evening. But hated it the next. And it starts all over again from there. How do you know whether you’re improving anyhow? You simply don’t.
What I do know is that my son couldn’t wait for me to eat the three cakes he and my man had brought home for me. When I explained I should at least have some soup first he accepted it, only to keep hovering around me and eyeing my soup-bowl. The very instant it looked kind of empty he put his 3-year-old hands around the small boxes of cakes (squishing them of course) and shoved my plate away. Basically, he wanted me to have what he would have loved to have: cakes for dinner.
This is what we call love.
How many people in this world are even lucky enough to have two people think of taking home some cake for them? On top of it, the reason they stayed home was to work. During a holiday.
I do not deserve. You can’t even begin to understand how paralyzing that thought is. I am deeply afraid it will all be taken away from me some day, by a demonic twist of fate that laughs at me and shrieks: “you, my dear, cannot have your cake and eat it too.”