Direction

I made pancakes. Banana and walnut pancakes. Pancakes are not hard to make. Pancakes should always taste wonderful. I mashed the banana into the batter. I chopped the walnuts and folded them into the batter. I put the batter into a skillet. I watched for the bubbles in the batter. I flipped. Golden brown. Beautiful delicious. So what does Belle Star do wrong? Maybe there is no baking powder in her batter. Or, no eggs. Maybe she doesn't use milk, but water. Or, just vegetable oil. A good pancake is a good meal. A bad pancake triggers Murphy's Law. When I was a kid, I thought of all the directions I could go. I thought, If I make a right turn here, I may lead an entirely different life than if I make a left turn. If I stop and wait for five more minutes, this or that could happen instead of not waiting at all. I thought of these other Curt Jimenez' and in prison I thought of a Curt Jimenez outside of prison. Married. A father. Leading a normal life. What I'm trying to say is that a bad pancake can lead someone in an entirely different direction than a good pancake.

I want to help Belle Star with her pancakes. But there are too many variables in life. You see, what if the pancakes she makes are from a family recipe handed down from generation to generation? What if Belle Star had a husband that loved her pancakes and what if he died unexpectedly? What if Belle Star loves the pancakes she makes and believes wholeheartedly that they are delicious?

Sometimes, when I can't fall asleep, I whisper all the variables in my life into my pillow. And the pillow listens to everything I have to say. The pillow holds my head. The pillow knows which way I will turn and knows that when I leave, I will return. Sometimes, I think it would be nice to be a pillow. To listen to all the variables in someone's life. To listen to the sound of happiness and desire, loneliness and fear, and listen and only listen. Listening is a beautiful thing that I think too many people forget about. There is a difference between listening and hearing. Hearing is getting to know someone. Listening is understanding someone.

It was a cold day. But it was sunny. My best friend and I were driving. His dog sat between us in his father's pick-up. We stopped by the side of the road. His dog ran out into a field. My best friend said, Could you imagine? He took off his shoes. He stepped out into the snow. He followed his dog, barefoot. I watched from the truck. I watched how he took his steps. Deliberately. When he returned, he said, I can't feel anything. He rubbed his hands on his feet. I watched. I wanted to rub his feet too. Then we waited for his dog. But his dog didn't come back. And so we listened. We opened the windows and listened. And we listened to our own breaths. And our fears. And our hopes. And to the things we wanted to say to each other but never would. We listened to everything. And then my best friend drove away and he told me how his feet felt. Dead. He said, dead. And I understood what he meant.

Back then, we didn't need a pillow. And pancakes were always delicious.