Worn & Wound
How a Hamilton Pocket Watch Pulled Me Out of a Slump
In the last few years, I think the pandemic took something from everyone-for me it was my job, and my life in NYC. Eleven years spent going to graduate school, forging friendships, working, and finding my place in New York City, and one day it all vanished. I am fortunate and privileged enough to have had family and friends to lean on in my hometown of Chesapeake, Virginia. However, coming back to Virginia felt like moving in reverse. I came back to be with my family, no longer a full-time literary agent and adjunct professor, but hellbent to claw my way toward something I could love. In the meantime, a friend from high school, Kathleen, hired me to cook at her café, Battlegrounds, until I could find whatever was to come next. The headspace was humbling, and I was wounded. My life was changed, and it wasn’t my choice. The friends who held me up every day in New York were not physically present to provide a shoulder. But the café was filled with positivity emanating from the young people who worked with me, and the regular customers who came just to talk and indulge in a latte and a breakfast sandwich. One of those regulars was James, a lawyer around 40 years my senior (I’m 36 for context). James’s office was next door to the café and every morning he’d walk over for a cup of coffee with fresh cut flowers from his extensive garden. Battlegrounds was adorned each day with James’s vibrance. He’d take a seat in front of the grill and would talk to me a...
