And so we transition again. This time out of Italy and to Chicago. This time together instead of alone. And, this time we transition into the restaurant business. Quite possibly the most insane transition of them all. The only "mom and pop" restaurant in the West Loop, a place where everything is owned by a restaurant group and where the customers expect only the trendiest spots they see on instagram to reside.
I have to say, it is not for me. My whole life I have been so uninterested in being "on trend". Never a follower or popular kid. But also never trying too hard to be unique. Following some internal moral compass that somehow created itself in me. Even as a child, my mom went through a psychic phase (thank God that is over) they always described me as a "Very Old soul". Just how old, we don't know. Victorian maybe? I suppose it didn't take an expert of the paranormal world to determine such things. I have always been a bit odd for my age. For instance, crying every time I heard Madonna's This used to be my playground, because as a 3 year old, I was growing up far too fast for my liking. Life, as it does would be over in the blink of an eye. Everyone I knew and loved would be gone. Even then I felt too old for my little body and wanted to slow time from taking what I loved.
Was that the first sign of my aversion to transition and change? Who knows, but what I do know is I would be completely fine with transitioning OUT of this restaurant industry. Particularly in Chicago. I would love nothing more than the memories of disgruntled customers, long shifts and uncertainly to be distant and faded. Their sting no longer so strong.
Each day is an emotional roller coaster. I am on the ride not sure if I ought to be laughing with my hands flying in the air, or clutching a safety harness trying not to die.