Pancakes

(Kayla, 1984)

{Old ladies often enjoy talking to me, for some odd reason. I'll be minding my own business outside of a store and they stop and chat with me about the weather or their grandchildren. I find it strange since i'm not always the most cheerful looking person. But, it's always really sweet of them to stop and chat with me. I know it might be stupid, but i am writing about a crappy morning and going to the neighborhood pool and chatting with the old woman who swim there early Sunday mornings.}

I awoke the net morning with a new resolve. To let go.

"Whatcha making?" I asked Cheyenne as she stood at the stove, dots of flour on her Motley Crue t-shirt.

"Pancakes."

"Pancakes?"

"Want one?"

Cheyenne slid the spatula beneath the bubbling batter and flipped one of the cakes. I sat at the table and she asked, "Are you okay?"

"Never better. Can i have some butter?"

The enormous pancake stack slanted and wiggled as she carried it to the table. Robin had already eaten; in fact, she was already gone. Off somewhere living her life, going to work. Me, i was letting life carry me in its current.

"Syrup?"

"No. These are healthy pancakes."

I sighed, tired of Cheyenne's health obsession. "You're going to be late for work."

Cheyenne glanced up at the clock, said, "Oh." and rushed back upstairs.

I got up from the table and ran to the fridge to grab the syrup from the first shelf. I drizzled the syrup over my pancake and shoved it into my mouth before Cheyenne could return and take it away from me. I didn't even bother to cut the pancake into triangles with my fork.

It didn't take long to make my way to the pool. As i approached, i could hear the same chatter of lazy slapping of the water. Charlotte wasn't there yet, but Mim and the clapper in the wheelchair were, plus a new old lady who was totally bald. She swam slow, deliberate strokes back and forth across the pool.

"Beauitful day!" I called out breezily as i walked through the gate.

"Good morning," Mim said, then she asked gently, "How are you, dear?"

"Never better. Happy as a clam. Snug as a bug in a rug. And you?"

With Puck in tow, i dropped myself into an empty lounge and closed my eyes. The sun was already blistering hot and it was just past nine.

"Sunscreen, dear?" Mim asked. "The sun is treacherous." Eyes still closed, i shook my head no, stretched out. Listening to the gentle ripples in the pool, i imagined i was floating down a river on my back, destination unknown-letting go, letting life sweep me along in its current. What did i have to worry about anymore?

When we were little, Mom used to call Marisa and me her two dwarfs: Breezy and Warty (me), as in worrywart. Then, who could blame her? I mean, who wouldn't worry, when life was always one big question mark? Would my drug addicted mother be alive when i wake up? Would this social worker visit be the last? Would my grandmother take me away from my mother for good? Would this beating be the last of me? The way i figured it, i was the only one in my family who recognized how bad things can be, how many perils there are to life. The way i saw it, i was the only one who worried appropriately. But not anymore.

My sunburn was just surfacing when i returned home for lunch.

"Yikes," Robin said, taking one look at me.Then she reached past the sink to snap off a frond of aloe from the window box.

"Robin, don't worry about it. It will be a tan in a few hours." Shrugging her off, i sat down at the table. "What smells so good?"

"Grilled chicken and avocado wrap with pecorino ramano and garlic mayonnaise," Cheyenne said.