Pretending I'm Retired

Today I baked a cake. Not just any cake, but a peppermint chocolate cake. Back in November, I was tempted by a decadent picture on the magazine at the grocery store checkout. The mouth-watering, rich chocolate slice beckoned to me, “Don’t I look delicious?” Its frosting, coated with festive peppermint sprinkles, looked so indulgent. So calorific. “Yes, you look delicious,” I whispered. I imagined the cake as the Christmas Eve centerpiece, sitting atop a pedestal, perhaps garnished with a sprig of holly. In my mind, family is gathered around the table. The room is lit by candlelight and the flickering flames make the cake look magical. The evening feels magical. In reality, Christmas Eve was an epic “Pinterest Fail.” There was no cake. To be honest, I can’t even remember what we had for dinner. I was exhausted—still recovering from a bad cold—and was probably mustering the energy to wrap the last of the presents. Instead of the sweetness of peppermint and chocolate gracing my plate, my

  Dear Katherine, Do you mind if I brag a little? Forgive me, I’m your mom. I know, bragging gets a bad rap. We’re often encouraged to be humble—self-depreciating, even—about our accomplishments. But I can’t help it; you’re amazing. This weekend, I watched you walk across the stage to receive your diploma and I am incredibly proud of your achievement. I mean, those were high-heeled sandals, and you didn’t even trip once! The diploma you hold in your hands lists an impressive accomplishment: you graduated summa cum laude from The College of William & Mary with a double major in Psychology and Kinesiology. Wow! It says more, but it’s written in Latin, and I can’t read it. Here’s what I’m guessing the diploma doesn’t list: four years of experiences that led to this moment. The classes, the studying, and the stress, sure. But also, how you learned to swing dance. The quilt you sewed for your sorority sister. Being the RA with the most creative bulletin boards. Surviving the lonel