For my birthday, I made a cake that was way too delicious. It was almost like an angel food cake, with raspberry jam and fresh raspberries between the layers, then frosted with whipped cream that had pulverized dehydrated raspberries in it. Yum.
If that cake sat around my house, I’d be wearing it on my hips before the week was out.
I took it to a neighbor’s house. Her hips could worry about it.
Saturday, I realized that she still had my plate. I sent her a text and set off to meet her midway.
“How are you,” I asked. She shrugged. “What’s up?” I genuinely wanted to know. She is one of the friendliest and kindest people I know. Before we met I needed someone to French braid my granddaughter’s hair because I don’t know how. She was dancing in the Nutcracker in a couple of hours, and I was in a panic. I pleaded in our neighborhood’s Facebook group and this woman came to my rescue.
“Life,” she said morosely.
“Want to come over?” I asked.
She burst into tears and nodded.
I offered her something to drink as I rummaged in the refrigerator. I found two grapefruit White Claw drinks. Where the hell did those come from? I don’t drink White Claw. I’ve certainly never bought hard seltzer. And two of them? I thanked my angels as I poured the drinks into glasses. Angels are the only explanation I can come up with.
We talked for a couple of hours. Her life was feeling chaotic and overwhelming. I hope I did more listening than talking. I think I did.
She finally stood up to leave. “Maybe this is why I kept forgetting to bring your plate back,” she said.
Or maybe it’s why I followed my intuition and took the cake to her in the first place. It would have been easier to take it next door rather than two blocks over. Or why I got the notion to ask to get my plate when I did.
Follow your intuition. You never know where it might lead you.