Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Memoir Final Draft



Coffee Cake Queen



Eating something when it first comes out of the oven is an extraordinary experience. The steam rises, omitting a delightful aroma threw the air that will make any mouth water. The gooey pools of cinnamon and the crunchy brown sugar that would sit atop a moist, firm cake would always be my favorite part. Sliding a knife through the warm cake in order to retrieve a piece from the center; which is the most delectable part, is a much anticipated moment. Placing a piece in my mouth and feeling it’s soft yet crunchy texture as well as its sweet and powerful flavors creates a wonderful feeling of love and joy. Especially having it with tall glass of ice cold milk makes the cake that much more enjoyable.



As far back as I can remember my mom had always made coffee cake. I would wake up to my mom sneaking quietly and gently, trying to wake me to tell me there is no school that day. Right then I knew that later she would be making her famous coffee cake. As a child I remember waking up to the smell of the sweet treat. Knowing that there was no school that day this would automatically create a feeling of over-joy that I could play outside in the snow all day. My mom would make batches and batches of coffee cakes when I had snow days. The best part was waking up for the second time a little later when the coffee cake made the whole house smell of sweet sugar and cinnamon.  I loved helping my mom make the cake, we always had so much fn. Our motto was make a mess now, eat coffee cake, clean later. I would call her the coffee cake queen and sometimes we would play around and we wore dress up crowns. I would be her coffee cake princess.



My mom’s coffee cake was so good I remember running downstairs in my pajamas, almost missing every stair to grab a piece of coffee cake. I always had to have a piece from the center since that is where all the cinnamon and sugar were in puddles. The coffee cake next to the edge of the pan was too crunchy for me so I always left those pieces for my dad, he’d eat anything. I would put my center piece of coffee cake on a small plate, pour myself a glass of nice cold milk and run into the living room to watch weekday cartoons. I remember always having to race my dad into the living room to get the good couch where the clicker was so I could pick the cartoons we would watch.



Every time I beat him, I knew he let me win; that’s my dad and I love him. As I grabbed the remote and scanned through the channels I could see my dad staring at me. He knew I was going to choose something he didn’t like. I would let him choose what to watch because I was too focused on my coffee cake. I would be eating my coffee cake like a little mouse, piece by piece. I would finish my first piece of coffee cake for the day, but there was a lot more day ahead of us. I loved snow days when I was younger, mostly because my mom made coffee cake. I would be in my pajamas all day, drink hot chocolate, hangout with my mom and watch Rugrats. There was nothing I would rather do.



After a pretty good morning on the wonderful snow day I would obviously go outside to play in the snow. Being outside in the snow was always a fun and relaxing way to spend the day off from school. After playing in the snow for a while, it was always nice to hear my mom’s delicate voice yell out, “Chelsea, time to warm up with some hot chocolate.” I would run towards the door, tripping and getting my boots caught in the high snow. Getting to the door I take all of my wet clothes off as my mom is pouring me a nice cup of hot chocolate. "Don’t forget the marshmallows mom." She puts it on the table, as it sits there all by its lonesome. I can smell the warm sweetness of the chocolate and the sharp sweetness of the melting marshmallow. I loved watching the steam rise from the top of the cup as I went to grab it. As soon as I picked it up the hot cup sent a burst of warmth in my hands to my arms. Trying to take a sip but burning the tip of my tongue because it’s way too hot. The suspense was killing me, grabbing the hot chocolate no caring how hot it was, chug, chug, chug. Gone.


These memories really mean a lot to me because of how close my mom and I were. When you

become a teenager you just start to grow apart from your parents. Growing up I am not as close to

my mom as I was or would like to be, but one day I came into the kitchen and noticed my mom was

making her famous coffee cake. I was in shock and looked at her with the biggest smile on my

face. This to me meant something we could do together, to bond. At the same moment I would be

trying to keep the drool from dripping. I asked her to wait and she asked “for what?” I ran to my

room, ran back and yelled "ill be right back." i raced out the door and went to a party store and

bought two cheap plastic crown. As little girls we all love to be close to our 'mommies’ and have

that special mother daughter relationship. When we grew up, and became adults things started

to change. I walked in door, placed the crown on her head and said "the princess needs her

coffee cake queen." You could see the glimmer of memories in her eye, and the soft spot that

had touched her heart. Being a bit more grown, my mother and I are as close as can and I wouldn’t

have it any other way. She’s my best friend. The coffee cake, no matter how silly it may sound is a

piece of our relationship. To this day I have dreams of the first time I even tried my mom’s coffee

cake and the great snow days we used to have. The great memories it brought the smiles, and joy that

everyone had was incredible and I wouldn’t trade those memories for anything in the world






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