Sometimes I think of Mother Earth as a tired waitress at the end of her shift.
She’s got to rally a smile and wait at least another hour because someone came in two minutes before closing time.
Her feet are tired. Her back is sore. Her uniform is stained and feeling grimy and she’s ready for a shower.
But the people came in under the wire and it’s her job to serve them.
She’ll let them sit and get a drink order. She’ll make sure they are fed. She’ll take orders and make meals of what she can with what is left in the kitchen. There’s not much at this hour but she’ll figure it out.
She always does.
Day in. Day out. For little pay or thanks.
But she’s tired, depleted and running on empty. It’s not just that the stock is low and the produce wilting, but the ovens are overheating and the freezer doesn’t stay as cold as it used to. The ice it’s supposed to make keeps melting.
Sometimes she wants to yell at the people for their hunger and the way they keep wanting more food at cheaper prices but don’t see that costs her more.
And sometimes, when it’s late and she’s especially tired, she just can’t stand to overhear the conversations.
About astrology and how the moon rising in whatever will impact jobs or love or finances. She wants to say, look at what is on your menu now and the problems in this world right now that are threatening.
She wants to say if your house is lost in a flood when sea levels rise that will impact job, home and sex life. Will that matter only then?
She has to bite her tongue. She’s been a waitress long enough to know that won’t get her a good tip.
She has to keep smiling and serving.
But she wonders how the same people who are so curious about past life regression and what the number of their birth says about their middle name aren’t just as curious about cause and effect and actual details and facts.
But she does know.
Real news is depressing. And maybe it’s boring—in this moment.
It can feel urgent and clear and worthy of attention to her but she knows it’s not always that way to others.
That’s why her uniform is stained and her back hurts.
She takes the order, answers this and that about what is gluten free or has dairy but won’t be marked up or have MSG. It’s not possible to need and want more and not have to pay any extra.
She won’t yell or lecture or roll her eyes, except in her head.
She’ll take orders and bring food.
After all, she is Mother Earth and she does want those who visit her to be well tended to and cared for.
Poor, tired Mother Earth.
I don’t know how she doesn’t lose it or yell, “Who cares what hell the moon is in? The earth is in crisis so until we fix that, the moon is in…shut up!”
But she doesn’t say that.
She just thinks it and carries on doing the best she can.
Author: Christine “Cissy” White
Editor: Khara-Jade Warren
Image: Liz West/Flickr