A Piece of Cake

Today, I felt like one of those women I’ve seen in the movies. At least, I have the impression I’ve seen this in movies:

The female protagonist is shown alone in her kitchen; perhaps the setting emphasizes the vast emptiness of the room, or the expansive counter space around her, or maybe she is hovering over the sink, inhaling her meal as fast as possible as if her quiet loneliness is keeping her from seeing any reason to sit down at all. A few movies come to mind (though I think I need to have a rom-com marathon now to confirm). It is meant to depict the lowest point of her solitude.

I imagine that’s what I must have looked like when I found myself standing alone, in the kitchen, by the wooden table that’s beneath the back window. I stood, quietly hovering over a chocolate cake I had made the previous day. Not for any occasion; I just wanted cake. I stood with a fork in my hand and promptly began eating the cake, straight out of the pan, while I gazed out the window and pondered.

Now, for those who know my history, this story is already a momentous achievement in itself. The fact that I could be standing in a room, eating cake and not thinking about the tedious act of eating/swallowing said cake is pretty crazy compared to what I could say just 6 months ago. But I digress; that’s a story for another day.

Today, I found myself wondering: is this a good thing, or is it just sad? Is it the epitome of my loneliness and despair as depicted in the movies? Or is it a representation of all the good things about being an adult? A picture of how far I’ve come in such a short time? There is something incredibly empowering in it. I’m not just a sad sap wishing for love. I mean, okay, I kind of am, but I can make a cake and eat it too. I have the freedom to do that and I don’t need to feel guilty. No one is going to pop out from around the corner and tell me I’m going to spoil my dinner or my diet or any such thing. Yes, it is cake and, therefore, not the most nutritious thing, but there is also that element of gratification from the act itself; being able to make food and sustain myself as an individual.

On the other hand, it seems to also signify where I am in life. It kind of wraps it all up in this little package, so far from where I thought I would be. I was in a serious relationship. I was going to start a family. I was going to be a wife and a mother and an artist/baker as a secondary thing. And yet, here I am in this kitchen, alone, eating cake out of the pan because I’m single. Because I can. Because I don’t have anybody I would be sharing it with right now anyway. I don’t have kids who have birthdays, for which I could carry on the tradition of making this cake. The list goes on. I can’t help but wonder if this is my moment of desperate solitude and, as in the movies, my life will begin changing from here.

Honestly, I think it’s somewhere in between. And I also thank God for these moments of consideration and reflection because, whether or not one of those perspectives is true, or if it leans toward one or the other, or even if it means something else entirely; it doesn’t really matter. Because it led me to think about it in a new way and process how I feel about the fact that I am single now. My life has changed drastically and, in many ways, I could see it as a negative change. I could dwell on all of the things I should have right now, but don’t. Or, I can just take it one day at a time; thankful for the lessons one can derive from a simple, quiet moment eating cake in the kitchen. Who knows; maybe this whole thought process will be part of my turning point.

*cue inspirational music to self-improvement montage*

But in all seriousness, at the end of my musings, I was still just happy to be eating delicious cake.