Sunday, November 23, 2008

Working on a rainy day...

Everything was set, the day was young and the sun was beautiful. Nothing to fear, nothing to worry, all in all a day of enjoyment. The sunlight played gently outside but what was lurking behind was unexpected. The warm light was balanced with cold winds, sending mixed messages to my body. One moment the body expanded, another curled into submission. It was a unique day, but every day was always unique. A restful journey to work, but the mind constantly ticking, always constantly thinking. I made my way, towards my destination, every step, I was beaten with ice cold biting wind, and every step the sun would melt the cold away. I reached the doors where my work begins. The cold, still slicing it's way through the entrance and reaching me, every step I took back, the wind kept chasing forward. It was a slow cold day, and the sun was tired, and hid behind clouds. The day slowed down, but the people sped up. One moment the cafe silent, dull, relaxed. And in an instant, life bursting and erupting through tables and chairs. Plates full, plates emptied. A moment of peace, as I stood by the entrance, only to feel the tears from the sky. Shrouded by grey, soft clouds, the sky began to cry. The rain fell slow, not too hastily, but gentle as they dissolved into the ground. Almost hypnotic, so graceful, so many, so different. Reality came in the form of a ice cold breath, and only to realise more people were hungry, and needed to be satisfied. The rain, stepped into the floors, seeking comfort, seeking love, seeking companionship. The day was aging, and people were leaving, faces smiling, faces quiet. A waitress, tray full to the edges, bottles, cups. Occupied with her duty, stepped on the creeping rain. Bottles, cups wobbled, dancing on the tray, like a game. One by one, like dominoes fell, like the rain, but heavier. A high crash, splitting glass, shrapnel flaring, crystal lights, icicles of shattered purity. The crashing sound died with the silence of a roaring customers, clapping, applauding the destruction of glass. Senses alerted, safety first, lawsuits later. Broom in one hand, gently sweeping, gently pulling and pushing the shattered ice. Drama ceases, work continues through the night. The night ends, with the icy wind resting, and the tears have stopped falling. A refreshing night, the smell of rain in the atmosphere is appreciated, soothing and uplifting.

The night ends with a smile to my face.