Lemon Bundt Cake
Day 4 - I’ve decided to make something from the back of the book instead of going page by page in the front. Two reasons for breaking from the page by page playback of this book.
1. I don’t know how much longer the kids are going to be enjoying breakfast for dinner. 2. I didn’t get to the grocery store today for the heavy cream & mushrooms I am missing for the recipe. The truck is still in the shop, and the Land Rover is still awaiting its repairs under my carport.
I chose the Lemon Bundt also base on two reasons. Other than chocolate, lemon is my next favorite choice when it comes to desert and I also had all the ingredients to whip it up.
It was a super simple recipe and like the strawberry jam, I stayed up until 3 AM baking it. I feel like I work more efficiently when all the kids are asleep, and my husband isn't snoring next to me. So I sat on the far end of my recliner up until 10:30 working before I decided to get my workout in (that again turned into a double) showered & finally took myself back into the kitchen closer to 12:30.
I didn’t start baking right away. I cleaned up the kitchen and started to process my thoughts as I washed the dishes. I’ve been listening to a new book on Audible that really makes me evaluate myself and reflect on whether or not I’m on the right track for me or if I’m just checking off the boxes. Maybe you’ve read it too -Becoming Michelle Obama.
Today, she lost her father. I cried as she retold her story and I noticed a slight quiver in her voice as she read from her pages. It reminded me of my loss, not of my father, but of my grandfather. He was the closest thing I had ever felt of a loving father and I wondered if he would be proud of who I had become.
When he passed we weren’t as close as I wished we had been. I had been caught up in the mess life I was living. Juggling 2 toddlers, full time college student, and full time nurse. I would see him only on the occasions that I had managed to pick up some hours at the McDonalds back in our home-town. My real father & his new wife would agree to watch my boys while I worked.
It was sort of a way to pay me back for all the years he was absent and for his failings as a father to me. Sometimes I would get to see my grandfather on my way passing through. It would have to be at my dad’s house since I wasn’t quite comfortable being around my grandmother at that time. A tale for another time I’m sure.
He was a hard working man, never complained about anything & always joking as his Marlboro red hung out the side of his lip. He had lived a hard life as most Mexicans his age had. Being a migrant worker all his life his dark skin was hardened by the sun. He hid his silver streaked curly hair beneath his white sombrero & always wore a long sleeved shirt when he went out. His hazel/amber eyes would look almost green when the sun hit them & always danced with a smile when he spoke.
Even after 20 years he looked the same as I remembered him holding me when I was four. Every morning for the time my dad was around he would come over for coffee and woke everyone up with his joyful voice always saying “arriba todo lo que no sirve” (up everything that is no good). Only hispanics can say that and it be a loving way of saying wake up. I’m guessing. I would sit on his lap and he would share his coffee with me, joking that I wouldn’t grow if I drank it. I doubted it was true. I would ask him for a piece of chicle (gum) before I scooted off his lap and ran off to my room to lay back down and drift to sleep as he and my dad quietly chatted about their day.
I guess I too did not want to see the cold hard truth that his body was tired and he had become weak from his refusal to take responsibility of his diabetes and high cholesterol. We lost him right after Christmas, on my Dad’s birthday. I didn’t get to say goodbye or even tell him how much he meant to me. It was something we just don’t do in our family. For years I just told myself that I had grieved his death before he died, knowing it would come soon.
Now I find that I just ignored my feelings about a lot of things missed out on so much of his life because of it. And he missed out on so much of mine as well I find I miss him the most when it rains. I see him in Addison’s eyes, which are a blessing and a constant reminder he is with me. She looks like him the most, amber eyes and dark curly hair, even his same quick wit & dancing smile in her eyes.
I miss him the same as any person misses a loved one that has gone, I suppose. I decided it was only natural that I think of him as I bake a cake, since he always like something sweet with his coffee. No matter what time it was.
I popped the cake in to the oven feeling super drained and set the timer. I drug myself to bed and lay next to Demarcus who didn’t notice I was still up. I figured 50 min is plenty of time for me to take a cat nap.
It was a risky business but I had to rest my body. I shut my eyes only to open them again and feel freaked out! I leapt off our bed and ran into the kitchen. I thought for sure I had burned the cake!!
Nope, 7 seconds to spare! I pulled it out of the oven and it smelled so good! But even that sweet smell could not convince me to stay up an extra 30 mins while I wait for it to cool & transfer to a rack for more cooling. I left it on the oven and went to bed.
Day 4 ending with my “life's purpose” still a secret especially to me. On the bright side cake waits for me in a few hours. Goodnight grandpa, I love you.










