This is something old that I’ve written. I’m guessing this was in, oh…2004, summer. It was a writing assignment a friend of mine at that time had given me to do. She got this writing assignment in a summer extension class she took. The premise is to write a story where a wedding cake ends up smashed on the road.
It is unfinished as I got tired of it…my insecurities in my writings got in the way. I don’t even know where I was going with it. Will it be finished? I highly doubt it.
Perfection. What is it? I’m surrounded by perfection; yet, I do not see it. I create perfection, and yet, I do not see it.
Every time a couple comes in, they flip through the book; they glance over perfection after perfection until they come to their own. There’s classic white, chocolate, yellow, cheesecake and more. Tiered. Stacked; two, three, five. Frosting of different shades and different flavors. Simple to fancy. Fancy to extraordinary. Extraordinary to perfection. Each made and decorated with extreme care, attention, and love.
The wedding cake is the symbol of the couples love and affection. It is what the couple shares with their friends and family at the reception. It is a part of them; an extension of their love and their being. It is a symbol of their faith and their promise; the promise of their union, their love.
During the celebration of the birth of their union, the cake is presented. From tradition, the celebrated couple makes the first cut into the cake, bringing perfection to an end. Then they temp each other with pieces of the cake, holding it to their lover’s mouth, taunting and teasing, until the final moment of devouring.
The cake is quickly cut into pieces. Passed on to others to taste their union. Devoured, dirtied, trash, crumbs, and nothingness has perfection become. It is nothing and insignificant, only a sweet treat in their guests’ eyes.
* * *
Today is like any other day, an early morning of work. My shop prepares every morning in the usual routine to ready it for life. It is a sweet lover’s delight. The aromatic smell of life fills the air. My garden of baked goods; pastries, doughnuts, cakes, breads, and many more delicious treats.
Patrons come and go, finishing their usual routine. Coffee with danish or tea with shortbread. Each taking a little piece of heaven to complete their morning.
One couple in particular surveys my smorgasbord of sweets. Slowly taking their time, they admire the smell of the breads, savor the deliciousness of the doughnuts, and quench their thirst with the blueberry muffins.
Once they finish their assessment, eagerly they approach. They ask for the book. With some hesitation, I pull out my bible of cakes and pass it on to them with care. They thank me. Caressing the book, they carry it to a table to verify their faith.
The couple is as lovely as any other, young and in love. They are oblivious to the world; ‘cause to them, there is only love. They do not care that they are poor as shown by their second hand designer imposters. Their love is the only thing that matters. They do not care that their four jobs between them just put them into the black of savings, for their love will conquer all. They are above all that is petty.
With each turn of the page, the bride-to-be’s breath just holds a little more and more, only to be released by the tightening of her mate’s reassuring hand. Their heads so close together, they are one, heads down, admiring the beauty that is before them. With each page, beauty comes and goes, matching their taste to their love. The groom’s jittery legs dances with anticipation for the next page and the bride’s slow revelation of what is to come.
The bride’s breath holds completely along with her lover’s jitterbug. Stillness. It is a moment of clarity. With a single look, all is said.
Mumblings of a Hermit 隐者 