My mind has had a hard time coming out of its winter slumber this spring season.  The weather has not been helpful.  Our “spring” has been wet and dreary.  The bright spot has been warmer temperatures.  With the warmth of the air and the growth of all things green, I start to think of the celebration of life.  

This spring has brought the celebration of the marriage of my first goddaughter.  She is the daughter of one of my cousins.  For me, it was a rebirth of memories.  A reunion.  I was there with my mom, my brother and his family, my Uncle John, Aunt Helen, Aunt Tina… my cousins… my first friends.  

Early in the day, I was asked if I would provide the service of cutting the cake after the bride and groom had their moment with it.  “Of course!” I said.  “How hard can it be?” I thought.  Hold that thought.

The ceremony was lovely. The reception kicked-off the reunion as we all found space with our respective parts of the tribe.  I was flanked by my nieces, which immediately filled my heart with love, joy, and pride.  As we awaited the arrival of the bridal party, boredom started to settle on the young folks.  I remember that feeling.  Being dressed up in my finest clothes meant behavior that suited the dress.  But at the age of my nieces and nephew, my saving grace was that I had my cousins.  I had my friends.

The wedding party arrived in the nick of time to provide a break in the boredom.  The cake ceremony was scheduled immediately after arrival, but before dinner.  I was ready. 

Now, let me inject a bit of information.  At the wedding, when my cousin Lori (mother of the bride) greeted me, she thanked me for so graciously accepting the role of “cake cutter” on such short notice.  I was happy to have been given a task to help with the big day.  She told me that her mother, my Aunt Helen, would fill me in on the particulars.  Got it.

Outside the wedding, I saw Aunt Helen, and approached her about the cake.  She told me they had a small “ceremony cake” and a sheet cake, so the cake cutting would be simple.  There would just be small pieces to cut.  Got it.  My Virgo-brain was prepared.  For those of you reading who are not Virgos, know that those of us who ARE require planning for most things.  Okay, we plan pretty much everything.  Please do not judge us.

Fast forward to the reception hall.  My planning brain is searching the hall and spies the cake…the “ceremonial cake”…The four-layer HUGE cake.  Uh oh. My Virgo-brain is now starting a small rampage of overthinking.

After the cake cutting ceremony, I left the table to search out Aunt Helen, and my cousin Becky (aunt of the bride).  We put our heads together like a football huddle (to clarify, American football). Where was the sheet cake?  The sheet cake was in the kitchen.  It was the auxiliary cake.  Aunt Helen and I faced each other, standing on either side of the cake table, and she looked me in the eye and asked me the fated question:  “Do you know how to cut a big layer cake?”  

Full.  Blown.  Panic.

“No.”

This woman, my dear Aunt Helen, one of my loving aunts… Looked me in the eye and said… “Aunt Mary taught me, and I will teach you.”  Panic receded.  Together, we remove the top of the cake and awkwardly, yet keeping it intact, removed it to the safety of a small platter for safekeeping.  We started the process of cutting the layers, and filling the plates. Then, the magic happened.

As we are worked away, two young girls flanked me, each asking if they can help.  My nieces.  They are given jobs to help the process: assuring the plates are separated for ease of fast plating, organizing the cake slices to maximize space on the table, putting a fork on each plate.   We worked as a well-oiled machine.  Correction. We worked as a family.  Magic.

Part way through the process, my mom took the place of her sister (Aunt Helen) to allow her time to eat her meal.  After a bit more time, I sent my mom with my nieces to give them time to do the same. Standing there alone, I looked out over the sea of people and locked eyes with Hubby, who was dutifully sitting with my family, flanked by my nieces, smiling.  Magic.

At that point, Cousin Becky came to see if she could offer some help.  The layer cake was served and the sheet cake was getting smaller and smaller. She commended me on a job well done, and I started to dismiss the compliment with a rebuttal that the pieces were uneven sizes (note the Virgo comment above).  She quickly explained she felt that size variety was important as it allowed people to choose size based on appetite, which would cut down on wasted cake.  My loving cousin… my friend… flipped the switch in my brain from criticism to compliment.  Magic. 

When all of the cake was plated, our task was done.  The mood of the reception shifted from food to dancing.  Hubby and I said our good byes and started our journey home.  I sat in my seat and smiled, happy to be going home to change out of my fancy clothes, remembering the magic of the day. 

I am happy for my goddaughter and her husband, and thankful that I was part of their celebration.  I am grateful for my family and our opportunities for reuniting, young and old.  Even though spring has been a bit slow in unfolding, the trees are starting to turn green and the grass is growing.  Life is indeed good here in my country corner of the world.  

Magic.