Rum Cake for Breakfast

Photo Credit

Scene:  December 25, 2012. 08:45 a.m. Somewhere in the upper east corner of Tennessee (they don't like to call it NORTHeast Tennessee, for some reason), in the kitchen of a century-old wooden frame house, a solitary female is at work, washing a few serving dishes, wineglasses, baking pans -- items that are too old or fragile or unwieldy to go in the automatic dishwasher, which will hopefully go on churning its way through several more post-Christmas Eve cleanups. In a bedroom down the hall, a TV blares, but the woman ignores it, knowing that whatever holiday goodwill she is feeling will be destroyed by the sound of the so-called "journalists" on the Channel That Shall Not Be Named. Instead, for some reason, the song "Mele Kalikimaka" is running in a loop through her head. She lets it run through several verses while she finishes the last of the washing, wipes down the counter tops, and opens the refrigerator to get something for breakfast. The woman's eyes scan the shelves, passing over the leftover ham, the crate of clementines, jars of jams and condiments -- and then the silvery foil catches her eye. 

Rum cake! 

One slice of cake and one cup of coffee later, the woman is ready to get to work, baking the birthday cake for her daughter, who decided to make her debut at 7:31 a.m. on a Christmas morning 22 years earlier.

The Christmas you get, you deserve.