Cake

So much thought energy and feeling is put into one of the ends of a cycle. Either the beginning of the story was far better than it ended or something started off bad but was given a chance and ended up well. That last little piece of cake that is savored. The first bite of warm bread, fresh out of the oven and still steaming.

But what about the middle?

So much stock is put into the beginning or the end of a journey that the middle is completely ignored, glossed over, begrudged. But the middle is the entirety of the story.

Something as simple as a lemon orange layered cake. The first bite a surprise. A delicate and artful balance of tangy and sweet. A light cake that is not too overpowering in its sweetness but rather complimentary.

But also: A first bite that is jarring in the fact that the cake is not fresh. It has been sitting outside all day. Tastes somewhat stale. But as the dessert is eaten, the initial shock of lost freshness wares off. One is able to increasingly enjoy and relish in the complexity of the combined layered parts. The symphony of flavors.

But in the middle. Sitting right on top is a blueberry. Just there in the center. Not eaten first. Not saved for last. Piled on just at the apex of the sweet treat, one single, fleeting addition to the flavor pallet. A shock in its freshness given the season. A delight.

All that to say, though the middle part, after the initial shock and just before the relief and gratification of compleation, may be mundane, difficult or a much needed break, it is still an important part of the story. Not something to be rushed through. Relish it for what it is: something, that in hindsight, is quite fleeting.