Cinnamon & Sugar Toast

I lost my muse or at minimum she has been hiding.  Lately I’ve call out to her, “K.K. Anise, come back”, “K.K., inspire me” … silence.

According to my parents, when I was young (meaning single digits, not in my 20’s which is a whole ‘nother young), I could not pronounce my own name, so I dubbed myself “K.K. Anise” (Kelly Denise).  Looking back, I wonder if my pseudonym was an inability to speak clearly or, more likely, the name I gave my alter ego, the brave irreverent, the fierce defender of family and childhood justices, the life filled with possibilities, the pocket of imagination, the muse.  Either way, this past year K.K. has been A.W.A.L. I think she’s been hiding from a year inundated with concerns and sadness.  What K.K. Anise should have seen, though, was a year equally immersed in family, friends, and endless beauty.

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Cruising in my convertible with the wind styling my hair into its naturally-desired state, I let loose a cathartic and wild yawp from deep in my soul – a cleansing cry filled with frustration and unmet potential. I wish I could say that meaning and peace descended upon me, filling me with creativity; it did not. What did fill me was a random desire for cinnamon and sugar toast! Seriously!

Cinnamon & sugar toast.  I have not thought of this 1960s/1970s staple in years.  Bread hot from the toaster melted the generously spread butter.  Cinnamon and sugar, premixed by Mom in a ready-to-go shaker, sprinkled on top.  Yum! The quality of this treat measured only by how dark the combination turned to its new gelatinous and buttery state. So rich.  So sweet.  What was once comfort food to my body, was now nourishment for my band-aided spirit.

Remembering who I was and who I still am, “K.K. Anise” peeked around the corner and winked.  

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My cinnamon & sugar toast is plated beside my laptop.  I’m  feeling warmed, and brave irreverent.  I’m in search for K.K Anise … for myself.