moving forward.

I feel it behind my eyes.

It’s a pressure

Tasting sweet and also a little bitter

I leave with my heart in my back pocket.

It’s scared. I am quiet as I start walking

because the story is so strong.

I realize I am underestimating the power of what we are doing.

Our creation.

It’s haunting. I read articles of women whose voices are not heard.

I stop. I swallow. I say out loud.

This is why I am doing all of this. To grant a story it’s voice.

I walk. Step by step, my belly still heavy. It’s lying in there.

The story. The voices. Your voices.

It’s sweet and bitter because watching you I see your trust. Your innocence. Our innocence. And I can’t stop thinking how important this piece is.

my heart is thawing. it drips through the fabric of my jeans.

it's still beating strong. 

and it assures me. move on. keep going. the story will unravel.

it so needs to be heard!

so i plant my feet. and i step my steps. and the wind drives through my hair. and the world turns. and the stories hang on to the edge of my coat. 

and i move forward.

there is a piece of trust sitting in the back corner of my heart. i will blow it up into the biggest balloon and sail towards the horizon.

it will still be there tomorrow.

he enters with a mission
the 50% basket. if nothing is in it that he likes
he always turns to me and says:
"will be back tomorrow"
cuz tomorrow the 30% off bread will be 50% off.
today he came in while i was talking to another customer.
she and i talked about the fact that money seems to disappear a lot
faster than we make it.
we laugh. haha, funny us.  bad, bad money.
he found what he was looking for, she leaves.
his coat is so yellow i always think the sun is standing
right in front of me.
we chat. he always has a wisdom of the day for me.
today he says:
"it will still be there tomorrow. if you go inside a store and you feel
the urge to buy something, just tell yourself 'it will still be there tomorrow'.
then keeping your hands close to your body walk out and go home. i promise
you in most cases you will have forgotten tomorrow what you so desperately thought
you needed in that moment. i saved so much money over the years. of course,
it took me about 50 years to figure this out".
he laughs.
i look at him while he is talking. and it's one of those moments when i know
whatever he is telling me will stay with me forever.
you know what i mean? when you look into the eyes of a stranger as he/she
is telling you something and you feel that message was meant to be passed on to you from beyond
what's meeting our eyes? whatever that is. energy. universal wisdom. karma.
i thank him and tell him that i will remember it.
he takes his 50% off bag of bread and heads out.
so far i never really took the time to listen to him. sometimes he talks a lot and his
jokes are not very funny and sometimes offensive. but today, i felt we connected.
i hope he will be there tomorrow.

the only good thing here is sleep.

she said.
you know how one story can ignite a different one?
i was talking to my friend today and she had recently worked with a
senior friend herself as well.
the lady couldn't speak anymore so communication was difficult.
and yet, that sentence stuck with me when my friend said it.
the only good thing here is sleep.
she was living in once of those homes that are packed up right unto
the rooms with people who can't care for themselves anymore.
like sardines they lie or sit beside, in front and behind each other.
the only good thing here is sleep.
and so my friend would come and sit with this lady for an hour.
just sit and watch the other people walk by in the hallways or outside.
one hour and then they would part.
she died 10 hours into their visits. left.

the only good thing here is sleep.

i hope that wherever she is now, we would fine her dancing, singing, jumping rope,

climbing mountains and eating chocolate covered almonds all day and night.

because i think she slept enough while she was with us.

i like this lady.

she stands amongst piles of
things
and sorts through them like a queen.
she knows her space.
i observe her from a distance smelling
the old basement odor that this house
keeps dear to its heart.
this picture of her, my senior friend,
is imprinted into my memories
we are looking for the closest expire date
of the hundreds of energy drinks she keeps
stacked in her basement
she buys them when they are on sale
and she has lots of them
it's the good stuff, you know, honey?
i glance down to the ingredients on the
package of the red colored plastic bottles
six per pack
it's an instinct, i can't help it
cornstarch and sugar are the first goodies on the list.
the rest i can't even pronounce. don't know what it is.
i wonder if she does.
my heart sinks.
sinks for this lady who has worked all her life.
four jobs at a time to raise her daughter by her self.
she never had a day off, not even christmas
she snickers at the teachers who are striking
don't give me my daily bread, she says,
earn it. and she did.
25 dollars in her pockets when she arrived here in guelph.
and she worked hard, bought a house, raised her daughter.
that lady, that stands across from me, with her apron and leggings
and her undone hair
she is still searching for the closest expiry date.
those have to be drunk first, honey.
that's why my heart sinks. because she stands there in the hallway surrounded
by boxes of her things that she has already organized by categories
all done, dear. so nobody else has to do that when i am gone.
her life sits on those shelfs
they are sleeping it seems.
meanwhile, we are still looking for energy drinks.

what if...

what if...

this morning when i stepped out my front doors, i saw a breathtaking sight. snow. everywhere. the trees were so full of it their branches were hanging low. so low they touched my forehead. there was snow on the cars and the streets, the rocks and the park benches. and i had this thought:

what if...

we don't use any more cars. and we would use sleds to get to places. there would be jobs for people to pull sleds. and they would be paid a lot of money cuz all the money we used to spend on gas and car insurance could now be spend on them. and it would be a good job. we would look up to those people. for their strength. and if we got stuck, we would get out and help them. 

and all of our food would come from places that could reach us by sled. and it would mostly be cabbage, potatoes and carrots. but every month there would be a festival where the best recipes would be in a competition. and all that the cooks would be able to use would be cabbage, carrots and potatoes. leeks too. and they would come up with amazing creations. and there would be no winners. in the end every body would be eating everybody's creations. and there would be a big photo in the newspaper. and then we would all try out those recipes at home until the next competition.

and all the roads downtown would be covered with ice so you could skate everywhere. and there would be little sleds that can go on the ice for the elderly and people who can't or don't want to skate. and again, there would be people to push them to where they would like to go. there would be different lanes. one lane for skate strollers (those who like to look at the windows and just go slow), one express lane for people who need to get to a place quickly, and one lane for skate strollers going the other way. everybody would stop at the intersection and because it's so quiet and we are not separated by metal, we would communicate who would go next. and at every store's entrance would be hangers for our skates. and colorful benches painted by local artist, where we would sit down to take off our skates. and the stores would offer warm socks for the customers to wear while inside. and there would always be hot tea or apple cider no matter what store. and people would be able to pay for it cuz even though we would need to pay for the sled pushers and the tea, it's still a lot less than having to support a car.

and sometimes, between sips of delicious local apple sider, we would look back on those stressful days and sigh relieved.

what if...

early morning beauty.

i have been working early. early as in 6am early. and i really love it. the world is so quiet at that hour. it's mysterious. the whole day lies in front of me. and it's just me and the buns. i have been doing all the baking. i love the smell of the bread, the softness of the fruit cakes, and watching the croissants rise in the oven. there is beauty in all of it. it could be an ordinary job. but being aware of every single move and making it special, that has been my practice. the same is true for customer service. 'oh, it doesn't matter how the spoon lies on the saucer.' what if it did? what if it mattered that the coffee is delicately poured into the cup that rests proudly on a saucer? love for details. i am discovering it. and it brings so much joy to my job. i can see it in the eyes of the customer too. the joy of knowing that i care about how something is served to them. that they matter. sometimes they are impatient. we are so used to not get the best/ most beautiful/ thoughtful poured cup of tea.  but i challenge that. doesn't a piece of cake taste so much better when you see how much love the server has put into making it look pretty for you to eat? it would for me.
so i will continue. spoon left of cup, handle facing the customer. cake on edge of napkin in corner of plate, fork beside it with its end facing the customer, whipped cream beautifully foamed on top. et voila!

today was a flee day.

how do you deal with disappointment? i ask myself that question a lot. i tend to either get really sad and bury my head in the sand or i get upset, angry and frustrated eager to punch a pillow or throw something across the room. more often i get sad though. i don't respond to the people around me trying to help me through. sometimes i wish i could be this character with a ponytail and a skirt that swings in the breeze, who just gets up, grabs a cookie and declares: 'oh well, next time maybe. what's next?' as she  rushes out the door into the next adventure with her skirt dancing like a thunderstorm around her. very energetic. instead, i tend to feel low and i sort of dwell on that for a little while.
i wonder that about my customers, too. there is this couple that comes in every other afternoon. they have a piece of cake or a sandwich and they play games. every time. either crossword puzzles or card games. and they are whispering to each other like giggly teenagers. they are quite a bit older than me. and i wonder, what disappointments did they have to face so far? and how were they dealing with them?
it's funny too, cuz sometimes i am the disappointment of others because i don't have something in store anymore that they were looking forward to buying. and it is interesting to watch how people react. from 'oh, no problem' to 'grrrrr' and raised eyebrows. and i wonder if that reaction is a mirror of how this person reacts to any kind of disappointment. i think the bakery is a great place to really see human relations to themselves and each other.
disappointment also comes with hopes. having one's hopes up and when they are not met than we can feel disappointed. and then there is also the reality that some days are just not like others. sometimes i feel as strong as the strongest elephant with flapping ears standing grounded and enjoying the afternoon breeze. nothing can bother me. i am breathing. i am being. and then there are days, when i am the little flee that sits on the elephant's left butt cheek and, that for the life of it, can't hold on to the elephant's skin and is blown away by the slightest rush of air. maybe today was a flee day.