In A Field

The heart of an eleven year old girl still beats in an adult.  Somewhere.  She's alone.  Lonely.  She feeds her to keep her quiet when her crying gets too loud.  Her heart is broken and she can't find her way to fix it again.  She thinks if she could just keep everyone around her happy, the pain will dull somewhat.  Truth is, she only loses more of herself when she edits her character and her opinion to keep life at an even keel for everyone else.  She is tired of holding up her world, while time marches on and the wound gets deeper.  Her heart is tender but she makes allowances for those whose ways are a little harder than hers.  She keeps quiet because it matters more how she appears than what comes from her heart and mind.  She loves even more to be helpful with a smart idea if the moment presents itself.  She'll replay the conversation over and over when she is the hero and does the same whe...

The five contently munch on waffles and cereal at the kitchen table as I leave and make my way uptown for a few hours. Entering the kitchen of the cafe, I find my companion already putting day old donuts and bagels onto plates. She is flying through the kitchen, stopping to say good morning and giving me a quick hug. I can never go faster than she does. The pots of coffee ready to be poured.  Our customers stand outside waiting to come in. Looking impatiently in the windows as we move through the kitchen preparing to open. Hot water is making mountains of bubbles in the plastic wash tub.  We'll wash the same cups and spoons multiple times this morning.  Refill after refill.  Bottomless cups of coffee.  The sound of the cups being filled a familiar sound even as this place has become familiar. Pouring just the right amount.  Can I have a sweetener?  Can I have a plastic bag?  Do you have any bread? Small notes are written on brightly coloured...