"Mom's Chocolate Cake"

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"Mom's Chocolate Cake"
Word count: 700

Shoveling the last few crumbs of birthday cake into his mouth, Sid marveled at the fact that his long-widowed Mother was still able to produce such a remarkable dessert at the ripe old age of 87. The cake had been the real McCoy, made from scratch, not out of a box. The smooth, sweet, home-made frosting that had been spread with care over the exterior was exactly the right consistency, not overly thick and not too thin.

“How do you do it, Mom?”

“Do what, son?” Her voice was thin and weak, sapped by time and a failing heart.

“The cake; Ellen has the recipe, but it never tastes quite the same.” Sid was pretty sure his wife wouldn’t appreciate that comment, but she knew it was true. Her raised eyebrows confirmed his suspicion when he glanced in her direction.

“You’re my son, Sid. That’s why it tastes different when I make it for you. You taste memories and love; all the good times you and old Jack and I had together at your birthday parties over the years."

Sid shook his head, not sure if that made sense or not. He swirled the final few drops of his second cup of coffee around, a magical ritual that always seemed to make it taste even better, and lifted his mug to just beneath his nose. He inhaled deeply and paused for just a moment before draining the last few drops.

For some reason he suddenly remembered his Dad singing happily after finishing off a piece of Mom's cake, "Heaven, I'm in heaven, and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak..." a song from an old Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers film.

An analogy popped into his mind that he knew his father would have loved. The robust aroma and flavor of the coffee complimented the lingering remnants of the moist cake and frosting the way Ginger Rogers once complimented Fred Astaire. Together, the cake and the coffee swirled and danced a graceful, unforgettable waltz across his tongue and throughout his mouth.

“Most of today’s youngsters wouldn’t understand that. They wouldn't have any idea who Fred and Ginger were,” Sid thought, “and they probably won’t ever taste chocolate cake like this, either." He smacked his lips and picked up his napkin to dab at them. “This has got to be what they have for dessert in heaven,” he thought. He figured Mom would be baking it for the angels before too long.

“You want some to take home, don’t you, son?

"Nellie," Ellen butted in, "Don't tempt him like that. He's been doing so good."

“Mom, you know I’m trying to lose some weight and that was a huge piece.” Sid patted his stomach to demonstrate his point, even though he really wanted to take some home. "It's so rich, Mom, the taste really stays with you."

“I know, son, but you can only taste it for so long.”

Sid didn't agree with that. "I’ll always be able to taste that cake," he thought, "until the day I die. And then, if I’m lucky enough to make it to heaven, she can bake me another."

In heaven, Sid's Dad and a couple of his angel-friends were looking down at that very moment, nodding at the sight of his wife, his son, and the daughter-in-law he had never met.

One of the angels pointed and asked, "So that's her, huh, Jack?"

"Yeah," Jack sighed, "that's my wife."

"Is her chocolate cake really that good?"

"Let me tell you, Fred, when you take a bite of Nellie's chocolate cake there's this explosion of thick, rich chocolate flavor, followed by a fat shock wave of frosting that washes over you and just hangs there in your mouth. It won't go away until you swallow a big gulp of ice cold milk or take a hot sip of coffee to blow things out and get you ready for the next bite. It makes you feel like singing or dancing. It's like heaven."

"Makes you feel like dancing, huh? I like that. It's not devil's food, is it?" Fred received a bump in the ribs from the other angel's elbow. "Hey!" he complained.

"Fred, that's not funny."

"Sorry Ginger."

The End.

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