Miracle Chocolate

For many years I have had a piece of chocolate cake become a part of my life and when I devour it, love it and truly enjoy it my conflict or problem goes away. When I was six I was skinny my hair frizzy it just framed my slender face like a half oval head piece of wild brush. People laughed at me so much so I would have nightmares that featured their laughter. One nightmare repeated itself over and over again until I was well into my teens. A fat clown would walk up to me stand toe to toe and laugh very hard and loud. Then a Squirrel Monkey would taunt me saying “You are ugly, no one loves you.” Then it would disappear as quickly as it had appeared. When I would wake from the awful dream like clockwork a day or two later somehow a piece of chocolate cake would become a part of my life.

The very first time it happened I was six my least favorite aunt for no apparent reason sends a large chocolate cake to me from Atlanta. She did not have a good relationship with my mom and my dad her brother was not close. She never came to any of our family gatherings and in fact later in life I overheard my parents say she did not attend their wedding. They lived in Atlanta at the time, she was less than five miles away and she just did not show up. Everyone asked about her on the wedding day and were so surprised she was not there. When I was born I was told she did not come to the hospital to visit my mom or came by our house to visit us. I was told I did not meet her until I was three. I have no real memories of her from my early childhood. Very few memories of her at all.

When I became an adult my mom told me why she thought her sister-in-law did not care for her. My mom was raised on a small farm a few miles from the city of Atlanta. Her dad my grandpa grew an acre of this type of crop and an acre of that type of crop just enough to sell at the market during harvest time and have enough to put away for the winter. My grandma was a weaver and made elegant tapestries and furniture covers. They sold for a good price at the market and she had a large following of customers. Enough that she could put money aside every harvest time for their retirement after paying part of the family expenses. So much so she paid for my mom’s first year of college at the University of Georgia from the money made from the hand carved figurines her father made and the sale of the tapestries her mom made. My aunt and dad were raised in the city and my aunt snubbed anyone who was not from a family who were considered to be at least upper middle class. My aunt was a debutant when she was in high school. As far as she was concerned if you were not a deb or pledged a sorority in college you were trash. My dad well he was not concerned about status and fought not to be the next Cromwell who would be an attorney and join his father and brothers in the family law practice. My dad was a musician and loved it.

When my parents met, fell in love and ran away one summer to live as street musicians in New York it really upset his family especially his sister. My parents have a lot of old photos from the 70s of their magical carefree life in New York. Well when I came along and my dad needed to have more steady work. He had a degree in music so he studied to get a teaching certificate and began to teach. Then they returned home to Atlanta so they could raise me around my family. Dad taught and mom carried on her family tradition of weaving. She could put together colors in ways that were magical. We lived well I thought. Our house was large enough for us the yard as a child seemed to be huge. My imagination would just run wild and I would set out across it to journey to places unknown. The trees would become look out towers or guardrails to keep me from falling into a river. Bushes would become walls along roads like the Great Wall of China. I could play all day imagining exciting places along my journey.

Now getting back to the chocolate cake my aunt baked. It arrived the day after one of my worst nightmares. You could smell the aroma of the cake through the box and I could not wait to get a slice. As mom cut into it the cake it slightly moved up and down and the aroma got stronger. The icing was a heavy creamy layer of deliciousness that slowly like a river ran down the sides. Yum! I could not wait to bite into it. When I did I felt special and pretty. For weeks after when I ate a slice of cake I did not have nightmares. My days seem filled with joy and happiness all was well. This would happen every time I would have a nightmare as a young person. My nightmares would happen every month or so and then somehow a slice of chocolate cake would become a part of my life. As soon as I put a forkful of the heavenly dessert into my mouth the room would light up, I could hear very light cherry music and all would be well with me and the world.