8.8.17

i baked a cake for you

ive known you for 3122 days.
youve been around much longer than that. when i was squinting to see the first daylight of my life, you were kicking around, a young man with many thoughts in your head.  we were at least 8 time zones across; even now, majority of the year, we are, on average, 5 hours apart.

weve been to many places together and seen many sunsets together. but honestly, much fewer sunrises together, hehe.  youve drank many pints while i munch on something beside you. we did laundry together, pulled on new linens on be together. who could possibly make a nice bed all by oneself? well, not i.

you saw me sobbing thinking about my lost brother. we talk about your mum, once in awhile, whenever she floats to top of our minds.

considering the distance, the time, and oh so grand, the universe, we float together, magically.

but is that magic? i dont really think that.

many people fall into synchronicity. and sometimes, like all the phones that are connected to the atomic clock network, they expect to stay parallel. always.

sometime people have an idea of the 'other,' of how they should fill into your life, to that weird game of expectant telepathy, regardless of the definition of the relations they are connected through- family, friends, colleagues, etc.

we certainly arent riding on automatic gear. we fudge the gears sometime. occasionally, we have to make things fit, as if making a jigsaw puzzle from many different materials. and we do. even if we sigh, kick, and give a cut eye. haha.

and you are there, outside of me. whether you are on the other side of these amazing smartphone machines, or in warm bed sheets, or crowded and hot budget airline seats with tempers flairing up, you are there. outside of me. but with me.

we work it out together. sometimes not- sometimes one 'informs' the other, what is to happen. luckily, we havent exchange a physical blow, though a comical image, perhaps, of banging someone with sack of oranges, do come up in conversations.  sometimes we throw our hands in exasperation, not so secretly thinking that the 'other' is wrong. and that's also fine.

so with all of that, i baked a cake for your birthday.

if an alien saw a cake, they would go around and gather crumbs to build a cake.

as cake batter has nothing to do with how cake looks like at the end!

****
i put many different things in the batter. eggs. liquor. butter. flour. chocolate. salt. all things that are not so spectacular on their own. some ingredients are no fun to eat on their own- especially baking powder, so bitter and astringent.

i whip the batter with elbow grease. after all, i only bake once a year or so. an old balloon whip will do just fine. the same whip that makes your birthday cakes for last few years.

this year, with the hectic schedule, i thought may be we should buy a cake.
but there we were, 11pm, on the first day back from another 10 days trip, you licking the whip, and me parked by the oven, as if i can stare at it to order it to rise. thank god it did.

house smelled of chocolate, sugar and butter.
you drank your birthday selection of supermarket beer on small chair in the kitchen, while i wrinkled my brain about jazzing up the frosting.

so there it is. a cake to take to work.

and in that batter, many things went in. the days of our lives together and apart. the thoughts that were expressed and thoughts that were scrapped from the table, to protect the other. small complaints and compliments. the jabs to the ribcage (for fun and not for fun), spilled coffee and hair on the bathroom floor. the small things that makes a 'day.'

and cake rose. as recipe promised. and you were so giddy excited to take it to work. steps with balloons on ankles.

happy birthday dear minnow.
i bake cakes, only for you, pretty much.
and im thankful everytime it turns out okay.

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