In the cabinet that stands tall in my grandmother dining room there sits a cake topper. It has been there since before I was a thought. A young woman in a white gown with lace around her shoulders, in-front of an alter deigned in a hear shape with white and lilac flowers surrounding her feet with just a tad too much lace for my personal taste. This cake topper came from my aunts Quinceanera, or her fifteenth birthday party, a party that represents a promise to her family and faith. For me, this cake topper represents an event I wanted, resented, and never had.
To understand my story, and stories similar, I need to explain a Quinceanera. The word Quinceanera incorporates the word Quince, which is fifteen in Spanish. In many Latin countries it is custom for a girl to celebrate her fifteenth birthday as passage of becoming a young woman and signifying her faith will remain strong her entire life. The faith, usually being Christianity or Catholic, incorporates itself in at the beginning of the Quinces day.
To begin, unapologetically, I never found myself particularly close with most major religions. I endured unpleasant events with Christianity and Catholicism. Recently, I even took up paganism and witchcraft. Take that as you will but I enjoyed them, but I digress. I began taking catechism, partly to please my family, and partly because I knew it had to be done for me to have my Quinceanera. The class and people were not as bad as I had expected them to be, so I survived and completed the course at around thirteen or fourteen. The path to my big event was set.
Finally, when I turned fourteen, there seemed to be a final miscommunication between my mother and me that sealed the fate of my long-awaited Quince. Shortly before this communication, my grandpa, whom I had a solid and loving relationship with passed away. I’ll never forget my grandmothers words a few weeks after, “This was your grandpa’s biggest thing. He was always worried he wouldn’t be there for your Quince or high school years.” This, of course, shattered my heart into two. I initially said I was unsure of my Quince plans, so my mother mistook this as a reason to forget having a Quince at all.
This cake-topper affects me each time I pass by it. It holds memories that are not directly mine but an entirely different generations, the one before my own. We each have these items. Maybe an old prom dress that grandma and mom wore that you couldn’t even look at without mentally gagging. Even something as small as jewelry holds such emotion and memory. This cake-topper holds a deeper meaning though, one of dancing, singing, laughter, and joy. Not only does this cake-topper invite me comfort but sentimental value for my family. I believe it also holds a connection between generations. One that is long but clear.
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