Bittersweet

It was rare. For all the bluster the adults would raise about having a proper breakfast, her Nana broke her own rules.

Her mom always preached that she needed a balanced breakfast for her to get big and strong. As a good girl, Lynette always nodded and agreed when an adult said something that seemed to make sense. Her chestnut brown ringlets would bounce like the springs hidden in her favorite clicky pencils.

When she came downstairs to her Nana's house, the normal scents were fresh brewed black coffee that was so strong, it was guaranteed to give you a jolt of energy that lasted for hours. There was a smell of cooked breakfast meat like ham or bacon and sometimes even sausage that wafted through the house like a comfortable companion. If you were lucky, she would slice off the chunks of bread and make toast from that homemade potato bread she would make from scratch. The normal smells of tasty breakfast, warm, comforting smells were always present... except this one morning.

This morning, Lynette was caught with a sad pulse The only smell she smelled was fresh brewed coffee. The kitchen lacked the smell of fresh bread, it lacked the smell of cooked breakfast meat. This morning, it even lacked the smell of other tasty foods like pancakes or banana bread. It lacked all the normal scents. And this upset and troubled Lynette. As she made her way further into the house, she realized her Nana was still sitting on the couch deeply engrossed in her morning religious programs. Her Nana was notorious for getting up early and having a couple of cups of coffee before even the birds arose from their nightly slumber.

Her nana took place on a well-worn micro suede couch. She sat there with one leg behind her and the other flat on the floor with her body turned toward the TV. On the arm of the couch and partially on her tummy, was a well browsed Bible. The covers were pink and white flowers and was inside of a brown and tan colored case with dark brown leather handles. Between almost every page was a small piece of paper or random bookmark. Her nana used these trinkets in order to keep her place instead of turning the thin pages down. While she would not write in the tome itself, she had no qualms of storing papers and notes amongst these religious texts bore on paper.

The wood floors from the kitchen all the way to the living room were warm and neutral against her feet. The TV was at its normal loudness that was not so much hearable from the second floor but was just loud enough that it would mask most people's footsteps through the house. Especially if they knew where to step. Taking her seat on the love seat across from the cocktail table, she saw her Nana's cup. She looked around inconspicuously and she noticed there were no breakfast plates around her nana either. As the program went to a commercial break her Nana's cataract covered brown eyes looked at her for a moment. She took a moment to give her Nana a hug and look around for maybe an unsolved plate. Something that intonated what was for breakfast. And almost seems selfish, but knowing how her family was, this was quite normal. Bringing her concern to her Nana's ears the word she never expected to hear. These specific words that she was guaranteed to never hear again from even her mom's mouth, introduced a new thought to her.

“Would you like a slice of cake?” those words were every dream along with ice cream, pizza and candy. Cake for breakfast? Yes please!

Lynette’s eyes lit up like the sun and she nodded enthusiastically. Her nana chuckled fondly as she went into the kitchen and grabbed a saucer and a fork. Back in the dining room, Lynette sat impatiently at the table, almost vibrating in excitement as she saw the mostly full cake dish. There was a decadent looking German chocolate cake in the middle of the table. It was completely missed as she walked through the house.

It was a chocolate cake that was her complexion with layers. Between each soft, moist, chocolate layer was a buttery, pecan laced, coconut frosting. It was her Nana's favorite cake and she was sharing it with her. Her Nana’s arm gracefully moved to slice the cake and sit it in front of her. The smell of the cake was warm and succulent as the aroma wrapped around her. A cup of milk was sat down beside her as her fork began to work as a tiny shovel for deliciousness.

Lynette kicked her legs in happiness as the flavors burst on her tongue. She felt a giggle bubble up in her chest at the feeling of having dessert for breakfast! The other kids would never believe how awesome her Nana was to defy her mom’s super strict rule.

Years later, Lynette sat in what was her Nana's dinning room as she packed away the cook books filling bookshelves. Her nana had passed on only days ago and her scent lingered in the house with a bittersweet air.

She still felt her energy on the couch. Her petite frame sitting on the end nearest the house phone. She still could see her talking on the phone at six o’clock on the morning holding full conversation filled with scriptures, memories and gossip. Her hand would hold the phone while the other held a worm coffee cup. The shiny coating gone from its surface from years of relative soaking in bleach enhanced dish water. She could see Nana outside watering the grass and filing the bird bath all while humming, singing and talking to the birds ion their native tongue, of course. Her outside watching her ribs cook on the grill filling the yard with the smells of well seasoned meat. A sauce pan of homemade barbeque sauce sat near by with a brush resting inside to further flavor the meat to perfection.

When Lynette got to the built in China cabinets, she paused. Her eyes began to fill with tears as they tested on the glass covered cake dish. She remembered how excited she was to tell her classmates that she had the coolest grandma. Her Nana let her have cake for breakfast! She remembered how afraid she was to cut her own slices as she got older for fear of breaking the lid. Her fingertip glided across the glass as the memory of having that deliciously decadent chocolate cake still hovered in her mouth. She sat at the table and wept. It finally got to her. Her Nana was gone. No more memories of her cutting with squirrels on the porch and feeding them walnuts and peanuts. No more hearing her explain biblical scriptures to her friends on the phone while she watched TV before Nana’s soap operas came on. No more listening to her fuss as she fell asleep sitting up. Her head bobbing and bouncing as if it had hydraulics like the modified low riders. She was awake but only heard the conversation from forty minutes ago. The smell of her perfume that all the church mother's wow would fade over time and the smell of her cooking would no longer linger like a weighted blanket.

Gently, she took the cake dish and wrapped it extra carefully. Making sure that all pieces were wrapped in old newspaper then again in bubble wrap. She placed the dish in a box with a snug fit and sat it in her front seat. Finishing up the last bit of loading, Lynette found something that her mom said was lost. She had found her nana’s recipe for German Chocolate Cake. It was tucked in a envelope in her Nana's bible that sat on the cocktail table, front and center. Caressing the frail paste, she looked it over. The ingredients were simple enough and her mom had made this cake before. It was almost Thanksgiving and normally, they ordered pies since do much other cooking had to be done. But this year… this Thanksgiving would be different. Amongst all the traditional fare would be a glass dish holding one homemade German Chocolate Cake.