I Thought I Was Just Tired

I was forty-four years old

and I thought

I was just tired.

I was in heart failure.

They opened my chest.

Triple bypass.

I did not know

until they told me

how close it was.

Four years later

I went back to the kitchen

as the executive chef

running the line

because I did not know

how to be

anyone else.

But I came back different.

Pump brain, they call it.

The surgery takes something

from your cognition

and it does not give it back.

My voice was damaged

from the intubation.

It was weaker.

I was weaker.

I kept running the kitchen

even when my body

was no longer able

to do it easily.

A kitchen line

runs on adrenaline.

I want to be clear about that.

There is nothing

in civilian life

that feels the same

as a full service

when every station is moving

and you are the person

coordinating all of it

with your voice

and your hands.

I loved it.

When it was good

I loved it completely.

I stayed

until I couldn't.

Not a dramatic exit.

Just a slow

honest recognition

of what my body

could

and could not do.

My sons were there.

They are both chefs now.

They worked beside me

and they helped me out.

Not in the way

you help someone

who is broken.

In the way

you help someone

you respect enough

to tell the truth to.

I watch them now

and I feel two things

at the same time.

Pride.

Which is simple.

They are good.

They are better than good.

They move through a kitchen

the way I moved through a kitchen

when I was at my best.

I see it.

I know exactly

what it feels like.

That

is the jealousy.

Not hateful.

Not bitter.

Just honest.

I know what they’re feeling.

I cannot feel it anymore.

I miss it.

I left the kitchen

and I taught myself

to write

to publish

to edit

to design.

I did this while recovering

from a body

that had already asked

more than it should have.

I did it because

I needed another life.

But here is the part

I did not expect.

I love it.

Not because

I had no other choice.

Because it turns out

I truly enjoy

doing this work.

I am lucky.

I know I am lucky.

Some people

lose the thing they love

and that is the whole story.

I lost the kitchen

and discovered

that I also love writing.

I hope I can do it

as well as I did the kitchen.

I do not know yet.

I am working on it.

That

is enough

for now.