Page 139 of I’m Already Gone

I nod.

“So, what do you wanna do, Mom?” Jake pipes up.

“Hmm,” I muse, hands on my hips. “I’m thinking... cupcakes and potpies.”

It’s my favorite combination, and I suddenly have the energy to tackle both.

“We can help,” Ethan volunteers, pushing himself up from the couch.

“Me too!” “And me!” the kids all chime in at once.

This is going to be one of those perfect, best-memory-ever days.

“Looks like we have everything we need,” I say, scanning the colorful array of ingredients sprawled across the island.

While Ethan and the boys went to the store to grab a few essentials for the potpie, Maddy stayed behind to help me bake the cupcakes.

Maddy peers around me, her eyes round as saucers. “This is an aggressive amount of sugar, Mom.”

I chuckle. “Well, we are going to make homemade chocolate cupcakes and frosting.”

“You know what we need?” she asks, already backing away toward the radio.

She flicks it on, and “Walking on Sunshine” blares through the speakers. Maddy starts to dance a loose, goofy sway that makes her look like an inflatable tube man.

I laugh, reaching out to hand her the metallic silver and purple liners.

Together, we plop the liners into the pan, bopping along to the beat. Once the pans are ready, I set them aside and preheat the oven.

“Come on, Mom!” Maddy grabs my hands just as the chorus hits.

We sway back and forth, laughing as we bounce. I lift our joined hands overhead, and Maddy gives a clumsy, laughing twirl beneath my arm.

Still laughing, we shuffle back to the island. We combine the flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt. We use the wooden spoon as a makeshift microphone, belting out the chorus with zero care in the world.

Maddy switches on the mixer, and the whirring blends with the music until the batter becomes a thick, glossy chocolate. We whisk the wet ingredients in a separate bowl, and I pour the mixture in.

As I start to add the hot water, Maddy tilts her head. “Why not use cold water?”

“I mean, you can use cold water, but I would rather use hot water because it allows the cocoa to bring out a rich fudgy flavor,” I explain.

She gives me a look of admiration. “I hope I can be awesome and strong as you one day.”

“That is so sweet of you, honey,” I say, reaching out to brush a stray hair from her forehead. “But can you do me a favor?”

She nods, waiting.

“Can you focus on being you?” I counter with a smile.

Her eyes crinkle in adorable confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, while I’m flattered that you want to be like me, I want you to discover your own individuality. There isn’t one single thing I would want to change about you.” I tap her nose with my finger, leaving behind a dust of flour. “You are special exactly how you are,” I add.

“Thanks, Mom.”

Once we add hot water to the batter, Maddy and I pour it into the liners, filling them halfway.

“Now on to your favorite task,” I say as I slide the cupcake pans into the preheated oven.