The wedding cake was the hues of soft summer roses, everything from champagne to dusky red. Rather than being one cake, it was assembled from many tiny ones that arose in columns with buttercream between. And amid the rose-hued cake were fresh roses from nature's garden. It was romantic... as marriage should be.
Our wedding cake was one of grandma's specials. She spoke often of how she was planning it and that it was a lot of work... "especially at her age"... but it was the sort of complaining that comes from deep happiness and the need to feel needed.
Our wedding cake was made by the children of the family and they were so very proud of what they had made. They stood their beaming as we all took a bite and praised them through the smiles and laughter. It was truly terrible and truly the best choice we ever made.
Our wedding cake was made by our families. It was all of our favourite childhood recipes together in different patterns and layers. Every bite was a sense of home, a sense of nostalgic love and the bonds we treasure.
Jerome had always dreamed of making a wedding cake, so we let him make ours. He was the most terrible baker, but he loved it so much. I guess you could say we had a "Nailed It" wedding cake, but it made the day so much funnier and more special than some prim white-monolith of perfect icing could ever do.
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