A Piece of Cake

I'm sipping a cup of warm tea while I read, and it occurs to me how simple and good some things can be without a convolution of extra ingredients supposedly to make it “better,” which kind of says something about life, too, but then it's time for dinner and afterward I'm eating a small piece of cake for dessert and I'm slowly submerging myself in the sweetness of its frosting and I remember a time long ago in Las Vegas when you were only four months old and I gave you some of my soda, your first taste of sugar, and how your face lit up, and the simpleness of your smile, and how that smile never left you, and I'm thinking, Yep, that was a good day.