The Reason Why I Started To Eat Carrots
It is Sunday afternoon; I’m hungry and I can’t take off my mind the carrot cake that I eat each year on my birthday. I’m gazing at the splendid vista that my huge picture window offers. It is winter now, and as far I can see, there is no green anywhere in the woods, only the desolate gray that is scattered among the crunchy branches, the dead frozen grass that doesn’t lure the deer to come by and say hi to the window. But here I am, the time is passing, and I have the feeling of being part of a movie playing in slow motion, one that shows my life passing by in front of my eyes, and I can’t touch it. Walking with my head down, suddenly, a sparkle of light on the ground calls my attention; it is a distortion of the sun that deceives me with a fractured hint of a gem that becomes the most important thing to me for the next three seconds. It is a leaf.
Here is when the shining leaf took me back to a big moment, that moment in the past that everyone remembers once in a while. Those memories that transport us back to times of happiness. The shining leaf I had rescued has the same brown glazed color of a carrot cake. Those memories are ‘messing’ in my head, just to cause my emotions to emerge. Was this weird or just coincidence? The golden brown color in a carrot cake is the only thing I can think about right now. Yeah, life gives surprises and on this occasion it gives me a trip to the past.
I was just five years old. The memories come back in a stream of consciousness like pieces of dreams: the youngest kid in the corner, me. All my friends from the neighborhood were older than me. I was thinking about something that I had never forgotten; it was just stored in my brain for a long time. My fifth birthday party, kids around the streets, people who I didn’t know and my dear family were all with me; there was no day more spectacular than this; kids were playing in the corners of the room, mothers who were more involved in adult conversation than watching the kids. The party had been going strong for a while, and I finally became impatient and then tired and grumpy; I didn’t want to play anymore; I was ready to open the presents. “Nobody open the presents before the cake”, exclaimed my mother, the words sounding louder than ever; I was only five and the only thing I wanted was to open my presents. Then I became resigned with the cake first, presents later, this ridiculous ritual my mother created. No time to beg, I was in a hurry to blow out the candles, hand out the cake and get done with this, no more party anymore! I wanted my presents.
I walked to the table snooping to see what kind of cake it was this time, maybe a chocolate one, or the delicious birthday cake everyone has. Instantly I turned to look for my mom; I wasn’t sure this was the right cake. My first thought was maybe there are two different cakes since there are adult people here, so I needed to ask my mom, but her face said everything; it was just this one, the most disappointing cake I had ever seen – there were no princesses or popular television characters on it – just a brown rabbit drawn on the icing. I was so disappointed when my mother explained to me that this was a carrot cake! The idea of having a vegetable cake covered with a white frosting was NOT the perfect cake for a five year-old queen. We don’t eat vegetables with the goodies as a rule. Vegetables are on the side of your plate, just in case you are not satisfied with your meal. I was scared and wondered what would be the flavor; would it taste like those veggie juices my mom forced me to drink, or was it the same taste of the carrots from my everyday lunch? I refused to eat it; I wasn’t ready, and an evil feeling assaulted my mind. I was furious! But this was my party, and I was allowed to do anything, so I refused to eat the vegetable cake.
Then my mother’s voice infringed upon my dream moment, the moment I thought I was to open presents, when she said, “there are no presents until you eat cake”, and it came again, the battle against the veggies. Sadly, I realized I had lost. I knew that the only way to get into those tempting presents that kept calling me with their radiant reflection of wrapping paper was by eating the malevolent cake. I puffed out my chest, and I was ready to reveal the hero everyone has inside. How bad could the cake really be? Expecting to be disgusted, I located the door of the bathroom, just in case I needed it; this was my biggest challenge, and I knew it wouldn’t be easy at all. I grabbed the fork and walked forward to attack. I had that first bite in my mouth and didn’t believe what was happening.
As soon the cake touched my tongue, I understood the feeling of being in heaven. The fluffy rich texture of the cake was soft, even better than my mom’s bed. The creaminess of the frosting looked like clouds that tasted better than marshmallows, and those crunchy golden nuts connecting with the cake were just like pieces of a puzzle. I was five years old, and I was blessed with this unique flavor given by the gods. I was the most important person on the planet; I was lucky!
Focused on eating the frosting of my slice of cake, my dad came to me and told me that it was time to open the presents. I stood up, walked through the people with my piece of cake in hand. I wasn’t finished, but I was going to open the presents with a new favorite food in my hand. Next thing I knew, I happily had cake for dessert for the next couple of days.
What a big deal, just a cake, what a surprise, what a gift I thought; something that didn’t look right for me happened to become my favorite tradition for a birthday celebration. Before I had tasted the cake, the presents were the important part of a birthday. Now my favorite part of that birthday is the cake. Since then everybody knows what my birthday cake is going to be like, and all thanks to my mother who introduced me to a new flavor into my life.