I’m not sure if she knew it at the time, that being the last time I saw her, but I knew it was the last time I was going to see her. (If you can make it past that sentence without wanting to find a much better opening sentence somewhere else, thanks for hanging in there.)
And I enjoyed every minute of it.
That’s what she taught me.
Time is finite. However long you spend with someone, whether it’s a few minutes or a lifetime, it comes to an end. So enjoy it.
I enjoyed it.
It began innocently enough, with the realization that my Saturday morning routine was in peril. Up until she came into my life, I always made myself four pancakes for breakfast. My griddle pan was the perfect size for four. All of that changed with the following pronouncement: “Can you make me a pancake too?”
That would leave me with three pancakes. My stomach was used to four. It was a 25% reduction in pancakes. And “who the fuck eats just one pancake?” I asked myself under my breath.
My griddle pan could not handle five. The same griddle pan I wanted to club her over the head with when she casually suggested I just plop the four pancakes into the oven to stay warm while I made a fifth pancake. Crazy talk.
It would be much easier, I thought to myself, to put my welding skills to good use. I promptly went to the store and bought another griddle pan. I then used my Easy-Flux 125 amp welder to cut it into four even pieces. When she walked into the kitchen to see me in my welding helmet and leather gloves, she rolled her eyes, turned around, and departed.
Storm clouds were gathering.
I then added one of the pieces of the quartered pan to my original pan. Just that easy.
I was ready to make five pancakes at a time.
After some quick math to ensure my pancake recipe was tweaked for a 20% increase in pancakes, I began cooking.
Now some of you might be baffled as to why taking away one of my original four pancakes would be a full 25% reduction in the aforementioned, while increasing pancake production an equal amount would require only an increase of 20% batter. I believe it has something to with the involvement of eggs. When things come in a dozen, they tend to fuck up our ten-centric mathematics. I believe that if you were to buy a baker’s dozen of eggs, you’d end up making six pancakes however many you originally intended to make. Blame the metric system.
But anyway… I threw down five pancakes on my new and improved griddle pan and began moving it in a way that made sure that they would all receive the same amount of heat.
That’s when she returned to the kitchen, no doubt to admire my cooking prowess. She stood by me, basking in the moment. Her man seeing a problem and solving it. Her man providing. Her man still wearing his welding helmet.
And that’s when the new addition to the griddle pan fell off. Apparently the heat from the stove had softened the solder. This, of course, led to the pancake falling directly into the fire. This, of course, led directly to the girl laughing so hard, I thought she’d asphyxiate right then and there on the floor.
Which led…
of course…
… to me taking the intact part of the griddle pan and smashing the quickly-turning-black-semi-pancake/semi-batter blob at least a dozen times before all I was holding was the severed handle of the formerly-intact griddle pan. If this was the ending of a horror movie aimed at breakfast foodstuffs, no doubt many of them would have screamed or even passed out cold.
The girl had stopped laughing and fled.
Smart girl.
The point being, I knew I would never see her again so I might as well destroy the rest of my kitchen. The fact that Annie’s Song was playing in the background took it all to a whole other level.
Let me drown in your laughter
Let me die in your arms
Let me lay down beside you
Let me always be with you
She taught me that you have to take the time to fully enjoy life’s little moments.