When my mother died, one of her honey cakes remained in the freezer.
I couldn’t bear to see it vanish, so it waited, pardoned, in its ice cave behind the metal trays for two more years.
On my forty-first birthday I chipped it out, a rectangular resurrection, hefted the dead weight in my palm. Before it thawed, I sawed, with serrated knife, the thinnest of slices – Jewish Eucharist. The amber squares with their translucent panes of walnuts tasted – even after I toasted them – of freezer, or frost, a raisined delicacy delivered up from a deli in the underworld.
I yearned to recall life, not death – the still body in her pink nightgown on the bed, how I lay in the shallow cradle of the scattered sheets after they took it away, inhaling her scent one last time.
I close my eyes, savor a wafer of sacred cake on my tongue and try to taste my mother, to discern the message she baked in these loaves when she was too ill to eat them:
I love you. It will end. Leave something of sweetness and substance in the mouth of the world.
-Anna Belle Kaufman
Why make an account and save your favorite JewBelong stuff? Because someday Jack is going to get off his ass and pop the question and you’re going to get to plan that wedding you've been thinking about since third grade.
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Because why use any of your precious brain cells to remember where you kept those great readings that you’ll use someday at Jeffrey’s B Mitzvah? Make an account, keep the readings there. Easy peasy. The only thing you’ll need to remember is your password, and from personal experience that’s hard enough.
Hey, can you watch the phones on Friday? We have a thing.