Samaritan House, May 18th

I smelled:

• Turkey
• Mashed potatoes
• Bread

I saw:

• Rows and rows of men eating dinner
• Three children
• A man that I’ve seen many times since the time we started serving there. He used to have a beard. He doesn’t anymore. I think the way he chews his food is funny.
• A few people we’ve never served with before
• The windows in the kitchen are these cubes with a wavy kind of texture. When you try to see out of them it looks like you’re looking out at a hundred tiny beach scenes. It’s weird.
• White rice
• Canned cranberries
• Green beans

I felt:

• For a while it seemed pretty warm in the kitchen, beyond the point of being comfortable.
• Sticky jelly from the lunches we were putting together
• Steam coming up from the trays we were serving food from
• Ice in my hands

I heard:

• Ladles clinking against plates
• Plates clinking against each other
• Plates being put on the metal surface where they’re picked up and brought to tables
• Orders to stop dishing up food from one man. Another man saying, “No, we just gotta keep going, we just gotta keep going.”