Humans logo

A small act of pancakes

with jam, of course.

By Robyn EllisPublished 3 years ago 3 min read
2
A small act of pancakes
Photo by Sonya Eliseeva on Unsplash

It was getting dark outside. I was lying on my bed, tears falling down my cheeks in sync with the rain outside. I had survived one of the biggest panic attacks I had since moving to this hostel, and was now fatigued to the core. I was surprised how well I had handled my 10 day quarantine in my room and how unbelievable was the situation now. On my last day of isolation, I received painful news from my mom. She didn't have a mother anymore. It was to be expected, I mean, my grandma had been deteriorating for years now, but nothing can prepare you when it finally happens.

How am I supposed to go out now, I thought.

I am new in this city, I have no close friends or family, everyone's a million miles away.

I can't be there to support my mom, nor can't I have the support I need.

I have gone through mental illnesses in my life and come out of them stronger than ever, yet this feeling never ceases to rip your heart out for some time. I felt lonelier than ever, because this time there was absolutely no opportunity to be with my loved ones. And I didn't just mourn the passing of my grandmother, I started to second guess every little decision in my life, and for the first time I was doubting my choice to move to another country, especially during these conflicting times. There just didn't seem any hope left and I was exhausted of trying.

Is there someone who doesn't love pancakes? Whether they be the thick American version or thin French crêpes, they are the most comforting home-made dish ever to be invented. I prefer to eat them with jam, as it reminds me of warm summer mornings when I'd wake up to the smell coming from the kitchen and my mom setting the table with the freshly made strawberry jam. So simple of a moment, yet a powerful memory to inflict unbearable homesickness.

There was a knock on the door. Who could that be? I was still supposed to avoid contact with everyone and I wasn't in the mood for communication anyway. After a moment's hesitation I reluctantly went to the door and asked who it was. Turned out that it was my neighbor who I share the kitchen with and he had come to ask me if I would like something to eat, since I wasn't allowed to come out of my room and cook. I never ask for help from anyone, or accept it when offered, merely because I don't want to disturb others, but at that moment I asked if he could make me some pancakes.

Half an hour later I received a plate full of pancakes with blueberry jam.

I'm not going to be dramatic and say that those pancakes saved my life, I wasn't that far down the hole, yet naturally they didn't relieve much of the pain either. What they did, however, was give me hope. I might be going through all these emotions and miserable times, but there is always good things happening in this world simultaneously to the odious. Thanks to my friendly neighbor I was able to see that life doesn't stop when something bad happens, be it the death of a loved one or a global pandemic, because these predicaments remind people to show kindness, sympathy and gratitude for each other.

When something terrible happens, we need not push ourselves to the limits, nor blame the circumstances or other people, but rather look for even the tiniest things to be thankful for, since this is the only way to keep a balance of good and bad.

A small act of pancakes can go a long way!

humanity
2

About the Creator

Robyn Ellis

Robyn is just trying to get her creativeness out into the world.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.