I am writing from my old bedroom in my parent’s house in Toronto. I arrived last night after the 17 hour flight from Hong Kong. In a few hours I head to Orlando to attend a business conference. As one can imagine, since leaving Toronto in 1992, each trip back to this house – now only occupied by Dad after my mother passed away in 2002 – is a bit surreal.

My Dad and sisters picked me up at the airport and we spent the next several hours sitting around the kitchen table of "124" getting caught-up. We all love Christmas Cake and broke out a cake with maybe ten slices remaining. My mother was known for making excellent Christmas cakes, giving them away to friends and family as presents. As we carved through the brandy soaked cake – helps to preserve the cake! – suddenly my Dad said, "This is the last one."

"What do you mean? I thought you were making them now?" I said.

"I am. But this is the last one your mother and I made together: November 2001," Dad replied. We all sat there staring at the cake… fruit, nuts, flour, sugar… brandy… just a cake but maybe more. Something my mother created with her own hands long ago, and fifteen years later we didn’t want to let it go. (That’s my mother’s hand writing, identifying the type of cake and year made.)

"Maybe we should freeze a piece. Keep it forever," I suggested. As much as everyone thought that was a wonderfully sentimental idea, it was not to come to be. Instead we kept eating until one piece remained.

"You have it," Dad said.

"No, we should share it," I suggested as I cubed the last slice into four pieces. I took the plate, offering a piece to everyone.

"Here’s to Mummy," Carolyn said, and it was gone.

This prompted a hunt for the recipe that apparently has been in progress for months. "It’s in the large cookbook scrapbook," I explained that was met with, "we’ve looked there and couldn’t find it."

Again I said, "It’s in the large cookbook scrapbook!" That book showed up on the table a few minutes later. Penny flipped through the aged, dog earred pages and soon found the recipe, "Dark Christmas Cake."

"That’s the one," I said but the book and it’s contents, years and years old, were falling apart. On this page were recipes for a light Christmas cake, dark Christmas cake, Christmas pudding and a few others.

"Ooooh dear," Penny said in a soft delicate voice. "These are falling apart. We need to copy them out before we lose them forever." I whipped out my digital camera, and snapped each recipe. Digitally preserved forever.

I slept about four hours then awoke. I’ve been lying here in the dark typing on my Blackberry. I’ve spent many nights in this room, or the one next to me. At one point my mind took me back to what I was doing years ago… I went back in years of five…

Five years ago: 2001 in Hong Kong, Tess and I were about to move into our current home. The year Seb was born. The Last Christmas Cake was made.

Ten years ago: 1996 in Vancouver. Halfway through grad school, would leave four months later for Hong Kong.

Fifteen years ago: 1991 in Toronto. Running my business, a few weeks later I would participate in The Forum for the first time. Twenty years ago: 1986 in Omemee, Ontario. In my 2nd last year @ Trent University, living alone on parent’s farm as a student.

Twenty-five years ago: 1981 in Toronto. Last year of high school.

Thirty years ago: 1976 in Toronto. In Milneford Junior High, the year of the sailing Olympics, Bondi Lodge with family friends one weekend in January.

Thirty-five years ago: 1971 in Toronto. Grade Four, we took my first trip to Orlando two months later. Stayed at the Sand Dunes Hotel.

Forty years ago: 1966 in Toronto. Attended Bayview Glen Junior School. My first memory of Christmas was a few weeks earlier when my parents surprised me with a beautiful, red, fire engine. I awoke about 6 AM and had to be peeled off the ceiling in my excitement. My mother came to the top of the basement stairs and said it was okay to play with the truck (it was a one seater) but I couldn’t ring the bell while people were asleep. (Familiar words I now use today with Sebastian.)

All here, all in this house. The Last Christmas Cake may be gone but the circle of life continues.