Figs.

I made a cake. It’s been a minute…
It was a gluten-free earl grey cake, with a honey cream cheese frosting, topped with figs.
I cried immediately after, and that’s an understatement. I actually lost my sh*t.

Kept thinking of how much you liked figs, and how we’d obsess over figs especially when mom was visiting, as if it was some new delicacy of a fruit. That time you and mom ate all the dried figs and didn’t save me any and I was so annoyed at you for it, so annoyed in fact, you guys went to the market again later that week and bought another bag for me.

Any time I’d bake something and post it on social media, you’d ask me to save you some… freeze it. And I wouldn’t, I was so focused on bringing as many as I could to work or for other people, because I kept thinking I had all the time to make you something. I should have. Every single time, there should have been no question or doubt, I should have froze one for you and I should have baked for you more often. You would always ask for Key lime pie or Lemon meringue. It wasn’t that I didn’t have time or that I didn’t get the chance, it was that I did not give you time.

All I want more than anything in this whole world is for just a f*cking minute. I’d give up absolutely anything and everything for a minute of your time.

Cake was surprisingly representative. It fell apart quickly.

Still, with what I’ve got,
c.