Standing here, mixing and whisking icing for the 4 cakes in the oven.  
Cooking slightly lets my tense out, you know, cracking the eggs, whisking the batter.
 Maybe Esther will get married soon. That would be good.
And as for me, in September I leave the states and fly off to Ukraine and Belarus, 
and this time I hope this is true, not just another empty promise or hope from my parents who are currently too busy for me. 
After Im done with these cakes, I will go cut, crumple, straighten and spray paint paper and hang it up all over an empty wall with something deep and meaningful written across it in my bad cursive.