Banana Pancakes

People change. Change is a way of life. Everything progresses, moves on, becomes something different. Change is all around us. Fall changes to winter, winter to spring, and spring to summer. Likewise, people change. At one point in life, you were a baby, than a toddler, a child, a teenager, and maybe even now, progressing towards adulthood. Changes are one of the things that are universally understood. Yet somehow, knowing this does not help us adjust any better. 1

Changes are not just physical things. First, you talked like a child, walked like a child, and thought like a child, but as you grew up, you began to understand things that at a younger age you could not have grasped. Maybe currently you are at a stage where you are capable of learning the finer arts of Algebra, English and Biology, where as before you may not have been able to understand any of these things. Perhaps now you are even able to understand people a little bit better, why they do the things they do. Why your parents got divorced or why your parents are even more in love than ever. The reason for this natural phenomenon is change. 2

Many people have said that the hardest part about change is letting go. However, the hardest part may not be letting go as it is going on. A persons' past is always with them and no matter what it is the one thing you cannot change. The past is a part of you, forms you, and yes, changes you into the person you are today. A good example of this is found in with my friend Charlie. 3

Charlie and I used to be best friends back in kindergarten. We used to play all the time, go over to each others houses and have huge weekend sleepovers. Charlie and I loved playing together and would use every second of spare time we had to build our tree-house. Charlie and I both had the same goals. However, one summer when Charlie and I were separated Charlie went to a summer camp, we did not see each other for that whole time period. When Charlie came back, we did not have the same goals anymore. I still wanted to build our tree-house whilst Charlie said we had gotten to old for it. Charlie had changed. 4

As a result Charlie and I were no longer best friends, we each grew up differently and choose different life paths. When I was younger I looked at Charlie changing as a bad thing, however when I became a little older and more mature, I was able to see it in a different light. Charlie could not help changing; it was just the way it was. Moreover, even though I did not see it then, I had also changed. During the summer that Charlie was away, I had met a friend named Mae, who without me noticing it Mae had already become my closest friend. 5

Though it was hard for me to come to grips with change, I came to realize that it is inevitable. The leaves change color, flowers come and go, and in the same way, I came to the conclusion people change. 6

Now I just need to learn how to deal with it. I am one of those kids with the divorced parents. If you have not already guessed, Charlie is not real. Neither is Mae. I deal with things metaphorically. Mayhap I do not want to ruin anybodies’ innocent outlook on the world. Perhaps even now I am still trying to prevent change. I do that sometimes. 7

Charlie is my dad. He left us when I was four years old. We really did have a tree-house. It is sitting somewhere in my old backyard now, probably completed by the new happy little family that moved in. Dad never finished. He does that. Dad got different goals. The kind of goals that included having a pretty little new wife, complete with new kids a new state and a new job. How great is that? To me: equivalent of him ditching me for a new family.8

Speaking of, mom got a new family of her own. Mae? Well, Mae is Ray. My mom got herself a second husband: my step dad. At first, Ray was great; I could talk to him about anything, even my dad. However, when he married into the family, well, things changed. That word again. You would think I would be tired of it by now. Alternatively, change would be tired of harassing me. Nope. Apparently, I am not that lucky. When Ray married my mom, his true colors bled through. He has a nasty temper, and so do my two new step brothers. 9

The first time he hit me was not a shocker. The first time he molested me was. I guess I should have been expecting it. Except for the fact that Ray was still like Mae, he would get up early and make banana pancakes, he would bring flowers home for my mom and he would listen to me sob my heart out about my latest boy troubles. It was like there were two different people inside his body. One was like the dad I always wanted, and the other a mean spirited drunk. The first Ray (Mae) was the man who held me when I cried, who was a supportive family man, who took us all out to icecream in the middle of winter and who got up at 4am just to make us a special breakfast.10

The second Ray was the one I didn't like so much. He was the one that hit, the one that came home drunk, the one that broke my mothers spirit along side our faces. The one who damaged me without a care. I still remember the floorboards creaking, me turning to the side, and covering my ears, thinking it was one of my brothers sneaking a drink. The slit of light slowly leaking through my door. Ray and his two meaty paws. Ray with his little curly black hairs covering the back of his hands, over his knuckles, on the sides. They are harsh and springy. Grunting, his hands curl into fists. It felt like forever. Finally, he got off, kissed my forehead and said goodnight. 11

The next morning, he made his special breakfast again. Bacon too, I was scared. He knew that. When he looked at me across the table and said he needed a private talk with me, I was expecting the worst.12

“Janie?” He asked. Yep. He was defiantly Mae today. 13

“Y-yes?” I tried to keep myself from stuttering. I wanted to run. Run all the way to my real dad, the one who he was before he left. 14

“I-“ he stopped, tears slipped down his cheeks, “I’m so sorry Janie, I….I couldn’t help it. You have to understand that.” His eyes plead with me. “I’m not a bad guy Janie, I’m not. I just- forgive me Janie?” 15

Forgive him? I look at his hands. They are spread out wide, graceful. Maes’ hands. Mae. My friend. 16

“Of course I forgive you.” I hear myself say. This is Mae. He would never hurt me. 17

“I love you Janie. I hope you know that.” He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling merrily. See? I tell myself. He loves me. He would never hurt me. 18

“I love you too.” I say. Change can go both ways, things can go back to the way they were. Or so I tell myself. Yet somehow that doesn’t stop me from crying as I watch him walk away.19