kellasandra's musings
my departure is calling me
his outstretched hands cradle my fears
accepting tomorrows that will never be
and asks for my final prayers…
kiss me with lips goodbye
and for those i leave behind
can I stand still in your memory
can I be the north star in your sky
can i be a beacon in your lost ocean
can i still be your lullaby
i promise to rest in time
if this flawless ending is kind
kiss me with lips goodbye
and i made departure mine
I used to look forward to just a few hours off, let alone a whole morning or even a day.
Now I don’t know how to fill up the time.
Miss the bakery at 4am or the restaurant at last call. The vendors, the markets, the customers, hell even the inspectors.
Miss who would call out that day, figuring which station you would be at, knowing if you went on the line, they would worry about you going off menu & food costs would go up.
Miss putting on a clean apron to talk to customers, spending too much time at their tables.
Miss the ingredients, getting to be creative. No one ever minded being guinea pigs, screaming out ‘taste testers’ to see who comes running. Surprised when the parking valet showed up but hey, new set of taste buds, I didn’t care.
Miss burn cream, Band Aids, butterflies and super glue (don’t ask)
Miss walking down the street & peoples’ reactions of you walking by, usually of them getting hungry, my hair & clothes scented by Vanilla, Chocolate, Citrus & smiling when Matcha confounded them.
Still don’t like cooking for one. A bowl of cereal will do, again.
Missing most are my fellow comrades – chefs, bakers, line cooks, dishwashers, runners, bartenders & servers.
Coming in everyday was an adventure. Whose day was it today always made it interesting. That person got to choose the music (dance moves in non skids are not recommended) learn new words (I know how to swear in at least 4 languages) & made our employee meals (garbage rice is the best).
Really only stuck to one type of schedule:
Bubble tea break @ 9a
Cortadita kick @ 2p
Wine tasting @ 4p
Bourbon @ 10p (they wouldn’t let me near the ice pick )
Find something open to eat after the shift ends
I miss it all – conversations, meals, dancing, singing, drinks.
I miss being part of that ride, every day.
I need goodbye to mean forever this time
its getting hard to carry
this portrait of a dying heart
of always standing in your rain
of regrets that were collected along the way
on this path of love and madness
where all the streetlights look the same
can i be your insomnia
can i be your time
would you guide me
when I need a place to hide
a place inside whispered words
to be lost in your rain
hidden in the pain
I’ll watch over you
if you travel somewhere new
how far it doesn’t matter
I’ll go with you
it will be okay
if we’re lost along the way
you were there
even in the moments
you couldn’t see
taking me to be
comfortable in where I’m going
stardust from the skies
on wings of paper butterflies
flies time back to you
slowly without knowing
at the end of that moment
your tempest breached
those walls of a crying soul
and the words began to crumble
under the weight of heart shaped wreckage
of scars whispering ‘I’m back’
and under the cover of this darkness
and in its loudest moment of silence
appeals are uninvited
unallowed feelings are quieted
suffocating a heart that wants to give up this fight
this love is not love
this love is not love