Tonight, I walked through a silent city.
For once, in the past month, my mind shut up. Finally, I could revel in the quiet and let the streets of San Francisco envelop my soundless footsteps. I peeked in on families having dinner together. Large turkeys sat as center piece's, framed by elaborate glass windows as twinkling lights guided my meandering path.
For the first time in my life, I was alone on Christmas.
Read MoreI sat amidst my childhood yesterday.
There were piles of books, a box full of letters and birthday cards, a bulletin board filled with snapshots of my life, old markers, half completed journals, paintings, clothing, recipe books, the odd glow-in-the-dark star, photography and maps of places I have been. It was chaos.
Oddly, I felt no emotion. No sadness as I tossed now-unnecessary objects in the trash. No regret as once nostalgic objects joined others in the giveaway bag.
Read MoreTwenty-one years later, I understood I wasn’t born to be a line-chef.
The realization hit me on an unusually busy Monday night. Tickets printed, I began to sweat. The salad I just sent out looked sad, the arugula far from perky. I prayed for the night to just be over.
It was then, in the midst of fryer grease and shredded carrots, I discovered I hated something, I thought my whole life, I was bound to become.