Blue

I've never cared much for chocolate cake.

It isn't that I have anything against it, not really. It's just not been one of those things I've ever loved. I'm probably turned off even more by the prospect of chocolate cake with chocolate icing. The combination is too much of a good thing for me.

A chocoholic I am not.

My mom used to take pride in hers, though. She made it all from scratch. No box mixes or tubs of icing were ever found in my house growing up. She could make anything with a little time and a cup of scratch, as the adage goes. At least, I think I heard that somewhere. It applied to mom's kitchen, anyway.

She used to have this sheetcake pan with a blue translucent lid. The pan itself was aluminum, but the lid struck me as super cool because of the particular shade of blue it was. When I was a kid, I'd look through it and the world took on a sci-fi hue. Once when I was probably six or seven, I stepped away from a partially eaten piece of that chocolate on chocolate cake, leaving my paper plate on the coffee table. I forget why I walked away, but when I got back, I found my dog with crumbs on his chin and a perfectly cleaned plate.

I laughed then, and I'm laughing now. He was a good boy, even if sometimes he'd steal from inattentive children. That dog was with me until well after I turned 16. He's the reason my mom never wanted another puppy; in her mind, there'd never be a boy as good as he.

She's probably right. I have a boy dog now and he's not as good as that first one. I've had some girl dogs, though, and one of them was better.

She died a couple of months ago, and recovery has been hard.

It seems silly, mourning like this. Mourning for a dog who was with me for 12 years, and now at the same time mourning for a mother who was with me my whole life.

I started saying goodbye to my last parent a long time ago, but I only had hours to say goodbye to my good girl. Her end was swift, hidden, sudden, and I can only hope for the same. My mother lived long enough to wither, and her passing was not kind.

Today sees me with intermittent sobs and a constant headache behind my eyes. Grief is like that, I suppose. Always waiting for idle hands.

My work is caught up and my hobbies are lackluster. Nothing on television holds my interest and I don't feel up to reading a new book.

So I sit here, thinking about desserts from yesteryear.

I never cared much for chocolate cake, but part of me wishes there was one waiting on me in an aluminum sheet pan with a blue lid.

My world could definitely use a different hue right now.