(5/23/09) TODAY is a molding slice of cake.

The cake was baked and purchased a week ago for a graduation party. The party has come and gone and so have those friends for which the cake was made.

I remember when our friendship was new. Like the icing, it was enticing. We were just getting to know each other then, so every moment was precious. Every moment was sweet.
It was once moist too. Our friendship had been moist at one point. No one had hardened to anyone else. We were all vulnerable, open, ready to crumble. And willing. It was like we were each asking for someone to stick a fork into our individual lives, to divide it and figure out what each was filled with. What makes you you? What makes me me? How are we different? And what do I like about you?

There was a message on the cake that looked permanent. Written with frosting, the word “Congratulations.” Embroidering the edges, blue and green flowers. But they are broken into. Those images that took so long to create. The picture that intended to live on. The message appearing to be unchanging, until we each took a slice. To partake, the picture must be broken. The flower must be cut, the message disconnected. And time will make the edges harden.

It was excitement that made our hearts tender, and the anticipation of friendship. The romance of it. The freshness. And then we realize that people grow and change and make mistakes. And people will disappoint because people cannot be perfect. And we grow apart. This piece from that one. This other from that. Until we are separate pieces, hardening on the outside.

I wanted to enjoy a piece of this cake today, but I noticed that mold had been growing. A green circle I thought may have been a stray pedal turned out to be the beginnings of a bacterial outbreak. Nature is changing the cake. Nature is reminding me that we cannot stay the same, and that it’s better this way.

How absolutely unnatural is it for a cake to remain the same?! It’s like a Twinkie in its wrapper; how will you know when it’s fresh? Fake friendships are like this overly processed, chemically complicated Twinkie cake. It is unoriginal and predictable, unnaturally enhanced and not really all that good for you. But our friendship has been made from the finest stuff, from things that expire and change.

I’m glad I’m not the same today as yesterday. I’m glad you aren’t either. I’m glad that when I cut deeper, I saw how we were different. I’m glad to know that our time together in college was real. We did not smooth over fractures, sever off the hard parts. We realized that we can grow apart, go our separate ways, all the while remembering when we were one whole cake.