The Sad, Sad Story of Nonni’s Birthday Cake

Oh, joy, oh rapture! It’s Nonni’s birthday!

Yup.

This “mature” lady has hit the glorious age of 64. As Paul McCartney famously asked, “Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty-four.”

I am hoping that my beloved boyfriend of almost 50 years still plans to hang around. I mean, at our age, it would be just too hard to switch to someone new. Am I right?

Anyway.

Here I am. Aging and not entirely thrilled about it.

Last night I spent the night with my almost 90 year old Mom. I made us dinner, poured us each a celebratory glass of prosecco, and opened the sweet card that she (my sister Liz) bought for me.

This morning I headed back here to take care of my grandchildren. I had decided the other day, as I was shopping, that I would buy myself an angel food cake. For most of my childhood, my Mom made me an angel cake for my birthday. I have so many lovely memories of that delicious, sweet, special cake. The feeling of it melting on my tongue, mixed with the richness of the whipped cream that most often topped it. I can picture my Dad smiling at the table, and all of my siblings gathered around as I opened my birthday gifts.