I was flipping through my recipe box when I found it—the perfect recipe. My mother’s banana cake recipe was my favorite recipe of all time.
I used to make this cake at least twice a year—leaving my bananas to ripen until they attracted fruit flies. After they were perfectly ripened, I’d carefully mash them in a dish, the scent filling my nostrils.
The smell reminded me of summer and winter all wrapped into one. I could almost picture myself prancing around in my mom’s kitchen in my old red bikini with the smell of banana cake in my nostrils. Making this cake was the only real time I ever could relax in the kitchen.
And I hadn’t done it in so long.
The day I rediscovered the recipe I was wandering around without a bra because of the hot summer weather. I needed to wear next to nothin
