I had gone back to my hometown to work hard and try to find myself again, which turned out to be more of a beginning than end.
On a whim I opened a place for people to eat, and realized that it was I, I still needed to meet.
“Look how happy you make people,” this was said to I, and then came that thought from the sky.
I’ve spent my whole life seeking fortune and fame, but not enough of either came.
Because there never is enough.
Why not just spend your time feeding people and making them happy?
So my penitence and personal protest transformed to purpose, and the I that had gone missing began to surface.
And in my quest to do things right, the employees and landlord did not delight.
The place where I cooked was both loved and hated, people who had not met me said I was not so nice, in the mirror it is they who should look twice.
I thought small town America might be different, so in my free time I drove around, in hope of finding some gentler ground. Continue reading