volume ninety-five

i miss banana on toast

May 19, 2023

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I wake to the sounds of the waves crashing in the distance, too early for the world to be awake yet and bring along their hurried traffic to drown out my favourite sound. I tip my head back, my first movement of the day. Through the intentionally open blinds above my head (making sure the morning light has every chance to come in even if it comes at the cost of privacy) I look out to see watermelon pink peeking through soft clouds wiped across the sky above the horizon. The sun is slowly beginning to show her face above the ocean. Switching on the bedside lamp, I swing my legs to the side, with no blankets to peel off on account of having kicked them far away in the overnight summer heat.

Quietly — which is always near impossible with a sliding door on the bedroom — I make my way to the bathroom, hoping I can sneak in there before someone spots me. Splash my face, dry it, and hydrate. I wet my fingers and pat down the one section of hair on the left that always sticks up first thing in the morning. I take a deep breath, forget everything I think I know about the day to come and make my way to the kitchen. I am greeted by my Nan, “Well good afternoon to you!” she says as I glance and see it is 6:15am, a sleep-in in this house for sure, “Poppy has made you banana toast already”.

Poppy emerges from his bedroom, shuffling as his jolly shoulders bump up and down with his excitement about my arrival. “Good morning love,” he sings, and he rubs his hands together. “I made you the, um, the ah,” he points at the counter.

“Banana toast! My favourite, thank you, Poppy!”

In exaggerated movements that show my gratitude, I head over to the plate and take a bite of one of the four fingers. Perfectly sliced into even sizes, no crusts, perfect amount of butter, a slither of banana. “This is so yummy, Poppy thank you”. I flick on the kettle.

He looks very pleased having made the same breakfast for me as he has himself, the way he does each day. “I’m not working today,” Poppy tells me. Work is what he calls his outings with aged care who take him to do arts and crafts and play games and take beach walks. He often comments that he has never been paid for this work.

I reach for the instant coffee in the cupboard, ignoring the one already on the kitchen bench. The one already out is the regular blend but I know that up in the cupboard is the fancy, more expensive instant coffee that my aunty apparently demanded to be there for her last visit. I cannot imagine it being a demand at all. I can imagine my Nan asking, as she does, what my aunty would like here when she arrives for her visit and she likely replied with her favourite coffee. I get it. I get the same veggie patties in the freezer I once mentioned were yummy, every darn time.

When it comes to coffee in this house, there are no percolators or french presses here to keep me in my morning routine, there is a kettle, a teaspoon and the fancy instant coffee hiding in the cupboard that I use because it has an extra kick. I think.

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Nan takes the giant find-a-word on the bench, the one that takes me a week to finish, and folds it under the key bowl, tidying up. “What are you up to today?” Nan asks, adjusting her visor on her head and I see Pop’s eyes light up as he turns from the armchair he has plopped himself in. I think about my emails piled up. I think about the work I need to do that I haven’t seen to in days as every time I sit at my computer I am asked “Still working are we?” and I think about how hectic it will be when I do get the chance to sit with them again. When will that be? At least with the time difference, I can pretend that is what caused the delay. A several-day delay? The time difference absolutely is the reason my bosses in Canada haven’t heard from me while on holiday in Australia. Or my friends. Or anyone, really. Holiday? No, this is jumping from house to house to see friends and family and catch up and meet children for the first time who can already walk and talk and soaking up their love and then just wanting to be right back here in this kitchen with Nan and Pop because this is home.

“I am going to go for a walk with Poppy to the beach this morning for a cappuccino at the cafe. Does that sound good to you, Poppy?” pretending we all didn’t already have this conversation several times yesterday. But my saying this is assuring Nan that, yes, absolutely she can have her time with her friends after golf, there is no stress here to rush back. I want her to take her time and take a break. I am hanging with Poppy for the day, and assuring Poppy that he won’t spend the day sitting around the house. He might not be allowed out solo these days but that doesn’t mean he can’t get out and about with his new friend, his thirty-one-year-old granddaughter he has known since she was hours old, whom he meets for the first time every day. He senses someone here, hence the breakfast preparation, but he has no clue who I am.

The bird chirps and he snaps and tells it to shut up. Sounds of all kinds are too much for him anymore, like my spoon stirring the coffee. Nan asks him to take the cage outside and he smiles and says in a calm and kind voice, “Come on birdy, let’s go outside”.

This is an old version of this story, but not much time has passed. It wasn’t that long ago this was all true. It’s a story that has changed now that Poppy has moved into his new home. One that existed before I started making the banana toast for him on my visits and not the other way around. One that existed before I started waking half an hour earlier to do yoga and breathe before exiting through the sliding door. One that existed before I was no longer thirty-one but thirty-two. One that existed before I spent so much time there I replaced the fancy instant coffee multiple times. One that existed before the bird flew away and broke Nan’s heart and she replaced him with two birds. One that existed before Poppy couldn’t be at home at all anymore, not just that he couldn’t be there alone. One that will never exist anywhere again but here on the page and in my mind. For the one in my mind, I am so grateful.

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here are three things I struggled with this week:

😮‍💨 Letting one person get on my nerves so much that it distracts me from doing the things I love in the little time I squeeze for them each day. What a waste.

🚰 Staying hydrated. Y’all go drink water!

🫱‍🫲 Setting boundaries, because I am scared of what I might lose. (But at what cost, LD?)

here are three blessings from this week:

🍨 All the vegan ice cream available to me on Vancouver Island.

🌲 The giant trees on the island that I can see as far as my eyes let me… not buildings… not concrete jungles…

😹 When the cat in my care jumps on the desk and purrs near the microphone and it echos into my headphones. Haha. What a cute little weirdo.

here are three goals for the coming week:

🤹 Less multi-tasking. I heard the term mono-tasking this week. I need more of that.

📆 Continue to shed things from my calendar. This feels like a recurring cycle. One where I say yes to too much and then need to step back from others. When will I learn?

💗 To remember that life is going to keep being life, things are going to keep coming up. And they keep coming up. To practice the things that I know make me a better, kinder, more patient, more understanding, serener human, means putting those things first. The rest is going to happen regardless, I just need to make sure I am set up to face it.

here is something I enjoyed this week:

Sorry, but I smiled and danced the whole time…pop on a two-piece suit with no shirt, throw away your shoes and socks, find your shinest necklace and enjoy.