My mother's cheesecake, the one she'd been making for years from memory, she can't make it anymore.

She had the recipe to help her but it didn't work out, I should have helped her earlier but I didn't.

She was so upset, practically shaking, and for once (or twice) in my lifetime, I did something perfectly right.

I gave her a hug, told her it was my fault for not helping her, and that from now on we cook together as a mother-daughter cooking unit, and that it was just one cake, it doesn't matter, because my brother and sister-in-law (the ones it would have been fed to) are getting fat anyway.

She laughed. And things feel okay for once.

Maybe I can do this... now I just have to straighten out the rest of my life.

Well, least I have time.

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