Pancakes From Memory

I’ve had the desire to write for weeks, but it seems that every time I get in front of the computer my ideas vanish.

It’s currently the season of Lent, and I have given up most social media but have fallen into the temptation of using them anyway. I am not reaching my goal of total isolation from it, but have reached the point where I am only online for about twenty minutes, which is a huge accomplishment.

As I type what is suppose to be blue batter sits in the bowl, waiting its turn in the hot seat. Spotify plays Electric Feel, but I have the urge to skip it. Some days happiness is hard to describe. The love I am reminded of as it plays is to much for me to handle today, as I am content in the drab sky that warrants rain. It is the perfect setting for Electric Feel, and as it continues to play I give in, and allow myself to remember all those years ago the way I felt the first time I heard it.

The song ends, and I want it back. I feel no song will live up to my expectations now, but I skip through songs anyway.

I taste a fresh pancake, and disappointment glimpses my taste buds, as I realize my mistake of to much baking soda. I do a little dance as Sweet Nothing ends, then stop, right before the first new cords of Hey Ya! play. Just a little early, as if that’s new. I never realized the vulgarity of this song, but I opt out of changing it, because I have to add more marshmallows to my batter. I decide to add more color to, as I prefer having a more vibrant color than dull green. I add pink, so the mix looks swirly. The spatula is covered in dried marshmallow goo so I wash it off, to make life easier.

Finally I hear the first few cords of Banana Pancakes. It stops abruptly. I restart the song, and it flows with ease. Memories of my past life flood, as I dance around. Erika at the register dancing, Sebs in the back singing to himself, Taylor and I singing in each others faces, Tyler walks in trying to be cool with his sunglasses still on.  I pour the perfect pancake, and go back to dancing as if they were with me again. Lots of awkward little dance moves ensue and the song ends. I wait a few seconds, then decide I want to listen again. Press play, and nothing. I go back to the stove… waiting… waiting… waiting. I assume it just won’t play, and focus on the stove. The cords begin again.

It feels good to be alone in my own thoughts sometimes, but silence can cut like a knife if not timed properly.

Advertisements

Author:

I'm just going to be real, sorry to offend.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s