When I finished my master’s degree, Mom threw a party the day before my graduate flute recital. She invited everyone I’d ever known – friends, family, even my junior high band director.
It would’ve been heaven on earth for an extrovert.
The party also morphed into a retirement celebration for my Uncle Bob, and so his friends were invited, too… which explained the second cake. Mom was an excellent baker, and she hand-decorated elaborate Wilson-pan cakes for each of us. I think mine was a grad cap and tassel.
I had not been able to visit much that year because of the distance, so Mom went crazy to make up for it. Each room of the house and area of the lawn was decorated for a different holiday. I suspect the Dollar Store had a sale, and she’d stocked up.
It was the mother of all parties (so to speak), and flawlessly executed. The next day, however, she was too exhausted to attend my recital. And since everyone else had just seen me the day before, attendance wasn’t high on their priorities either. (Curtis, I’m glad Mom didn’t know you!) The music I had practiced for months fell to an intimate crowd.
My mother and I never mastered the ability to talk to each other. But we were darn near perfect at miscommunication. I thought the “boob cake” was meant for me!