It’s 6:03 am and the morning news begins on the television. I had just gotten home, maybe 15 or 20 minutes ago.
So far, I’ve had 3 days of 13+ hour long shifts, coming home beat, exhausted, and sleepy. Service was chaos, with refires because dumb fuck food runners who only carry 2 plates of food only come back with a deer in the headlights look on their faces, asking, “where does this go again?” I need another because it went to the wrong table.”
I pull into my driveway, get out of my car and basically just got naked and fell into bed. Carrots jumped up on me but I didn’t even move.
It’s nights like this when I miss you the most. Remember when I first started working for Quealy and I would come home, defeated and ready to hang up my apron for good? You were always there to remind me that it’ll only get better, and helped me relax, holding me as the weight and trivialities of work were lifted off my shoulders and being just what I needed: a supportive woman who loves me and believes in what I was doing with my life.
So I guess I’ve been missing you the most for a while now…