Except that, despite all I said earlier, still one day each week I feel respite. Thursday. For four hours I was happy. I love my people, I love my place, I love everything about being there from preparing and joking around in the hours before, to serving our patrons, to eating dinner with friends new and older, to cleaning the dirty tables and counters we've all created after everything is over.
Half an hour after coming home I was crying again but for four hours I was happy and that's not nothing.
Some of the flower vases that my dear friend Jane put together today from the church garden, as she does every week, to brighten our dining tables.