Birthday Cake and True Love

There’s something extra special about a birthday cake. It’s not just sugar and frosting. It’s a symbol of thought, care, and celebration. When someone takes the time to bake or buy your favorite kind of cake, light candles, and gather others around to sing just for you, it’s not really about the cake at all. It’s about love.

When you truly love someone, you pay attention. You notice the little things. You notice how they always go for the corner piece with extra icing or how they secretly prefer a simple homemade cake over the fancy bakery kind. You remember their favorite flavor, whether it’s classic chocolate, lemon with cream cheese frosting, or something whimsical like Funfetti. When their special day comes around, you don’t just hand them a cake…you celebrate them.

True love is thoughtful. It’s taking the time to do what brings joy to the person you love. You don't do them because you have to. You do them because you want to see their eyes light up. It’s understanding that love isn’t shown only in big, dramatic gestures, but it's often shown in small, quiet moments. Things like remembering their favorite flavor of their birthday cake or staying up late to frost one just right.

One year when I was in my 30s, my dad made me a strawberry birthday cake. It was the sweetest and most thoughtful birthday gesture anyone has ever done for me. It was the only time anyone has ever made me or given me a strawberry birthday cake. No one else has ever asked me what my favorite birthday cake is, and that realization stings more than I’d like to admit. I know that when you love someone, truly love them, you care about what makes them happy. That love is deep, even down to the flavor of their cake. You ask, you listen, you remember. The absence of that question, that small act of care, reveals a lot about the kind of love you’ve been given and the kind you’ve longed for. Maybe that’s why the memory of my dad’s cake means so much. It wasn’t just a dessert. It was proof that I was loved in a way that paid attention.

This year, someone sent me a birthday cake. As grateful as I was for the thoughtful gesture, it caused more pain than anything else. They sent me a small chocolate cake, and I realized they didn't know that the two types of cake I don't like are chocolate cake and carrot cake. I ate the chocolate cake this year because I was so grateful for their thoughtfulness. I also ate it because the last time someone bought me a birthday cake was when I turned 40 years old. Plus, I didn't know if I'd ever have someone give me a birthday cake in the future. When I turned 40, my mom bought me a chocolate cake. The only time she ever made me a birthday cake was when I turned 30. When I turned 30, she made me two cakes, a chocolate cake and a carrot cake. That was also the year I planned a big birthday party for myself to make turning 30 years old a little easier. It was also the only year my mom has ever made me a birthday cake, even though she loves to cook and bake.

When we love deeply, we celebrate intentionally. We find ways to honor the people we love. We don't celebrate them just on birthdays, but every chance we get. Love, like cake, is meant to be shared. It’s sweet, it’s layered, and it’s made even more beautiful when we pour ourselves into it.

The next time you cut into a birthday cake, take a moment to savor more than the flavor. Taste the love that went into it. Savor the memories, the laughter, the care. True love moves with intention. True love, like the perfect birthday cake, is made with heart.