Dreaming of Writing While Waiting Tables
I recently realized that my dream of being a writer, which escorted me into the restaurant industry, will eventually escort me out.
After a year of lockdown, I returned to work at the same place. It’s comforting to be around customers, even under these strange circumstances. My mask hides both my gritting teeth and earnest smile. The absence of work provided me with a challenge to create without the familiar stimuli of others, to think about my future. Is it time for me to transition from the service industry and write professionally? Over the years, I’ve lost sight of my end goal time and time again. In the lapse of time spent working during the pandemic, I realized something: My dream of being a writer, which escorted me into the restaurant industry, will escort me out. Ice will melt in my drink if I leave it alone for too long, and it’s best to savor it while it lasts.
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