The past is not always the past

Sometimes I wish I had a bigger and more modern kitchen. I live in a small, but charming old apartment which means I have a charming, but old kitchen. So tiny, in fact that the refrigerator lives in the laundry room. Imagine that, a refrigerator I cannot fully open because there is a wall making it almost impossible to open it. So basically there is an art to opening the refrigerator and storing things and finding things in it.

Unfortunately this also means, most often it’s a messy kitchen. Which is why a dishwasher would be nice, but I am not even going to let myself imagine the luxury of that.

It might not have a dishwasher or too much counter space or storage, but damn I got a front porch, which faces the tree-lined street. I would typically grab my computer or a book and sit outside with my music playing and sometimes a glass of wine, while I watch people  going to run, walk their dogs or kids riding their bike.

I should be trying to spend my Sunday cleaning my apartment, but a reminder on my phone popped with a message which said ‘bake fruit cake’. I know it seems rather random and should not bother me, but it does.

It bothers me because that is a message my ex, the man who brutally broke my heart and betrayed me put on my phone.

Every year I bake a fruit cake which is traditional to Sri Lanka, that I sell at the farmers market. However, every year I start this process way too late and end up not being able to keep up with the demand for it. In order for me to get a head start, he made sure to put a reminder on my phone about it.

As much as I hate him. Yes, I know hate is a strong word, but I am working towards dislike right now,  It reminds me how supportive he was of things I wanted to do. Which makes it harder to wrap my head around what he did to hurt me.

I eventually walk to my kitchen and start the whirring and the burring of the mixes and whisks and get the cake in the oven.

It seems no matter how hard I try to move on and not think of him and me having de-cluttered my apartment with reminders of him, there seems to be something random that will happen, which will bring thoughts of him to my head.

Those are the times I put on my running shoes and head outside and today no matter how badly I want to escape and go run, there was no running away. I had to stay inside, bake my cake and face the fact that the past is not always the past, that there are moments it will seep into your present and will for the most part be a part of who I am and who I will become.



About my random musings

I am originally from South East Asia and I moved to the US about 15 years ago to follow my heart. My heart has since been broken a few times, but I continue to be on journey of trying to mend it. I could talk about running, baking or writing in a small crowd, but put me in a room full of strangers and I will be the one standing in a corner people watching. When I am not writing or running, I would be in my kitchen, flour strewn all over the kitchen counters, music playing in the background and me just rolling and folding dough, excited about what my creation will turn out to be. Besides that I love passionately, when I love, I give it my all, not always a good thing, but that is who I am. I jump both feet in and sometimes I come out with regrets but having learnt a lesson. I believe everything happens for a reason and this is my place to share bits and pieces of my life, my adventures and sometimes misadventures. Hope you enjoy reading my stories as much I enjoy sharing them with you.
This entry was posted in Food/Baking, Life, Love and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to The past is not always the past

  1. purief says:

    Nice tidbits of life…move on… life is short…


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