The Cleaver The Bash The Fun

Every year there is a large beautiful cake it was always a homemade cake. There is always a printed picture made from sugar paper. Flowers and candles in the shape of your age set up on top. The sound of family and friends singing happy birthday and happily screaming and yelling your age counting up as you receive countless birthday spankings from your family members who call it a gift strangely. Your friend laughs and plays all the wonderful games planned and organized. She turns and blows a raspberry in your face when she beats you at a game you beat her at last year. It was the same way every single year even past your 18th birthday. The laughter and giggling filled the room as talking adults discuss politics and argue about what their siblings and children are doing rather than being at the spectacular bash.

The year a cleaver was given to the next generation was a day to celebrate. Every birthday bash came to the continuous tradition even after the blade was dulled they just sharpened it and continued to use it throughout the life of the person who was gifted even down to the 99th birthday of her grandmother. They cut the cake the same way helping the old and frail woman who could barely hold the cleaver without assistance cut the cake. She even was happy to attempt at cutting her cake at her baby blue themed party where she received a blue-flowered cake with sugar butterflies on it. The smile on the old wrinkled face was one you would never forget. Her smile was one you could never forget that gum filled smile. The sight of her putting a cake in her mouth and gumming it to allow for swallowing was definitely a sight you would never forget. She had us clean and put her cake cutting cleaver into a wooden box that was velvet lined. It was special and in her living-will, she gave me her cleaver as a symbol of being part of the family. It was a special day to be included in a special tradition.

Photo on Foter.com