And when the cake’s out of the oven, it’s golden brown and smells a little like a garden. I have to wait, again, before putting the frosting on. The waiting is hard. I want everything to be delicious all at once. I want to skip over the hard parts, the boring parts, the lonely and sad and angry parts. But if I do that, the cake won’t be good. It won’t be right. So I wait. Even though it’s uncomfortable and too hot in the kitchen. Even though I don’t feel like waiting for the good part.
