Vox Publica

I'm breastfeeding Camila, lying next to her on the sofa in my mother's house. Mika comes behind me and starts cutting my arm with a plastic knife. She wants to get to my blood, she says. What are you going to do with the blood?, I ask. Put it in a plastic bag and then throw it away she says. Seems like a waste, I say.

A couple of minutes later she comes and starts brushing my hair with the brush from the vacuum cleaner. She's trying to get the knots out, she says.

Someone in craigslist (I'm a regular at the food forum) mentioned family recipes, and I couldn't but think of my grandmother's - and then my aunt's - recipes for cakes. I grew up with their sponge cake with lemon frosting (though I preferred it with whipped cream), chocolate with mint sauce and yellow cake with chocolate-dulce-de-leche frosting. And of course, apple pies, chocolate pies, lemon pies. My grandmother was known for her cakes and pies, and she was the best.

Now I have their old cookbook. But I have it because my aunt passed away. It's been almost 2 months and I'm still crying almost every day. Sometimes I cry because I've already gotten used to the idea that she's dead. I loved her so much.

Mike came home and interrupted me from the thoughts, so this will be it.