It's the little things.

On Valentine's Day my dad called to wish me a happy day. He sounded really down and talked about how much he was missing his mother. They were always very close and he's had a difficult time since she died 3 years ago. I listened to him reminisce for awhile. He talked about her and how she was such a great cook/baker; the same stories I've heard a million times. Her applesause cake was always one of his favorites.

I pulled out the recipe box and found the envelope I stashed there several years ago. My aunt had sent grandma's original recipe card; so yellowed and smooth with age, I could barely read the faded handwriting. Luckily, my aunt had included a post-it to clarify a few instructions.

This past weekend I made that cake from scratch, following my gma's recipe and even made her homemade caramel frosting to top it. I've never made a cake from scratch and A didn't help me; well she did chop the walnuts.

I haven't tasted that cake in over 15 years but the first bite was like a flashback; back to the days of sitting in her kitchen eating as she fussed over us and cleaned up. I was shocked and amazed at how profound the memory was. I served it to dad and told him I did my best but I'm sure it wouldn't be as good as gma's. He said it was damn close and gma would have been proud. That was the best complement I could have received.

I can't remember the last time I saw my dad smile that much.