Saturday, July 4, 2020


I chose number one and sobbed like a beast for an hour before I wrote to really connect to this memory. I love these and want to thank you for them because I find them to be the other side of a conversation to the world. I find purpose in the prompts - to answer the questions, satisfy the curiosity, communicate... interaction. Anyway...


A Moment Without (And With) My Prison...

I wake up embracing my Sunday morning with the strong urge to cook a great breakfast. I love cooking and I love the freedom of knowing I'm not on the hook for much today. I struggle with getting up and moving, though. The bed is warm and I roll a little until I can tuck in the goose down comforter around my sides. It's incredibly soft and it's a queen size, so it has a little weight to it. Even though the bed is empty, I can still smell her scent in the fabrics. It's every bit a beautiful smell as most things about her. Alright, enough with the procrastination...

The sunlight coming in fills the room and gives the impression that the temperature is rising. I get up, but there's still a chill in the room that I find is a nice kick start into what I have to do next. As I get dressed in a pair of flannel pants, I can softly hear her outside in the yard. She enjoys her projects with the yard and the edges of our patio. The faint sounds of her productivity and knowing she's enjoying her own work just makes me smile on the inside. She's motivated for it. As I walk into the kitchen, I see she laid out a few items for breakfast. It looks like some chorizo and eggs are wanted today. I agree. She always let's me cook, because she doesn't really like to and I'm way ok with that. I pull some milk, cheese, sour cream, tortillas, some olives... I can't continue without some music. I plug in my iPod to the music dock in the kitchen and load a John Legend playlist. It's perfect for the occasion - smooth, rhythmic, intentional. The kind of sound you move your feet to while floating through the kitchen, one project to the next.

I fire up the stove and place a pan on the burner. As I cook the chorizo, I crack the eggs and mix them with milk. I'm always stuck at draining the meat. Do or don't? Ok, it's not too greasy, so add the eggs and scramble it all together. The smell in this kitchen is phenomenal. Rolled up, these breakfast burritos will be masterpieces topped with the other ingredients. But before I get too carried away though, I have to call her in with a cup of coffee... "Babe!...BABE!!" Where is she? Where am I?

That's right... we're both gone. That was years ago in a space that no longer exists. That kitchen is only an etched outline in time, existing in my daydreams. That music stopped long ago. That smell has faded away. That sunshine isn't bright there anymore. That food isn't tasteful now because it's only in my mind... She no longer belongs anywhere but that memory. I'm in prison and I did that. I know that. But I'm working to change that. I won't always be locked away. I need to remember those moments because my humanity was born in them, those memories. They came just as my life crashed down around me, just as I had a taste of something better. By then it was already too late. However, all of my next times with the next one will be just as important and I use these moments of my own memory to make a plan for the time when I'm complete, centered, free... free from the pain I created for myself, when my life doesn't exist in a prison. A prison of my making or anyone else's...

by Rory Andes

Hold on to your dreams. You'll need them...

Email at using Rory Andes 367649

Or by Mail:
Rory Andes 367649
PO Box 888
Monroe, WA 98027

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