The Reasons for Today

After sitting here pondering the events of the day, I wonder how I reached this point. Alone, yet married with a puppy named ginger wagging happily beneath my feet. Slowly, it happened. First, moved out of the apartment I shared with be best friend from high school and had spent the most fabulous three months of my life with. Then I slowly moved into my boyfriend’s condo, moving further away from my family and most importantly my mother whom I spent most my time chatting, cooking, baking and sharing with. The final move came after I married my fiancé. His career forced us to make the move across the mountains to farthest you can go still being a Washington resident but minutes from becoming an Oregonian.

The mountains perhaps are the problem or possibly the five hour commute or perhaps it’s the fact that I am not one of these people. I do not belong here so far from my family and friends yet still attempt to find my niche any niche something to call my own. I cry everyday. I call home, call my best friend and often write to God but nothing seems to help.

I work now. I work the days away, so I don’t have to sit by myself at home. I substitute where I hope to teach my days a way in my own classroom if ever one should vacate in a town with only one high school. I also work at a French restaurant, supposedly the best in town but only make half a day’s worth in a substituting.

I don’t really care for the cash the uppity wine connoisseurs tip me. I work for the contact; the human interaction. Escape from the torture of being alone.
Then he walked in. A slight Hispanic accent, shy yet, he knew exactly what he wanted; a good meal with the best wine in the house.

Serving Self Worth

I brought the food out as quickly as my feet would carry me. I smiled as naturally as possible.

"Is there anything else I can get you two ladies?" I asked gingerly.

"Looks fine, thanks," they responded nonchalantly

I rushed to table number ten to take there order as they took turns staring me down.

“Did you have a chance to make your decisions?” I asked.

“Yes, I would like the Dover special with the Caesar salad. And I will have another class of sabignon blanc 2008.” She said flatly.

“And you sir?”

“I would like the steak frites, with the red sauce, medium done, thank you. And I will take another glass of your petolesseblu.” He quickly added.

I race to the bar pore the only white 2008 we have, assuming that is the one she wanted. I attempted to decipher his choice of wine and poured the only red that started with a “P”.

“Coming.” I shout to the kitchen.

Caesar is up and more people enter the restaurant. Is it my fault people have to wait the extra 30 seconds longer than their patience is willing? Should I beat myself up that I can not speak peoples’ attempt-at-French language? Does the chef (owner of the restaurant) see that I am trying or does she see failure at its best?

I walk the half mile to my car because I want to follow the laws and be polite to my customers. Do not want a ticket and want to give customers adequate space to park, so they don’t have to walk in with tired feet.

I pick up the empty starbucks cup en route to my car to compensate for my lack of superior customer service. I wish I didn’t feel like other people are critiquing me. Isn’t God only allowed to make judgment? If only I were my own boss and my intention were to be just that, incompetent at its best!

City Escape

Hidden in the cracks and crevices of a big city with no roots, no history, no ties to a corrupted past life, I ponder the possibilities. The possibilities of a fresh start each day, beginning a new identity with a new start with the sun’s first rise. I can go into a restaurant, grab a bite to eat without recognizing the server move onto a coffee shop where I am unrecognized, one in hundreds that will filter in throughout the day.

As the night approaches I sit outside on the patio of the wine bar and watch the people pass by each one with a new face and new story. I sip on my glass without a worry in the world. No one cares about where my story takes me this night, and I swim in the thought of loosing myself amongst the crowd of first time city seekers.

Age Defying

10:24, two hours I have been laying in the dark. My blankets wrapped just right and my toes peak out the end for air to filter through. I said my prayers, moved to the edge of the bed, in my free space and all is right for me to fall asleep. Still my mind wanders making me reach over to tough my husband's arm just to make sure I am not as alone as I feel.

This night my mind is consumed by my parents. I add the numbers, going over the years of my life, of theirs and make an equation which may comfort my growing fear of their disappearing. Right now, there is twenty 24 years difference. That makes me the age my mother was when she had her third child. That also makes me feel I am younger than I should be and yet, fighting age as one would fight the flu, begging for mercy. If I get older so do my parents. If I move on to have my own children and watch them grow.

If I stay young, will my parents also resist aging?