Dear Dining Hall–
It’s the time of year when there are no classes at the Folk School
And the dining hall is dark and quiet
There is no clatter of dishes
No enticing aromas wafting across campus
No fried chicken
and mashed potatoes
No enormous wood fired bowls of mushroom soup
No homemade bread with peanut butter
Gone are loxs for breakfast,
done perfectly with capers
(over which David Brose and I so wistfully pine)
And there are no salads
from the Folk School garden
I bring lunch from home
but it is mediocre at best
While I eat my soggy
peanut butter and jelly sandwich
each day,
I find myself drawing pictures in my notebook of your rainbow shrimp salad…
my favorite
The doors are locked
And the red bell doesn’t ring
I peer in the windows on my way to the craft shop
but no one is there
Where are the glorious faces
That mean fellowship and food?
Where is Steve?
Where is Chad and his silly reindeer hat?
We, who are left here in this lonesome time
have no delectable desserts to comfort us
Not a brownie-
Not even a piece of carrot cake
To fill the hole left by your absense
My days are longer without you here
And my belly is empty
Sincerely,
Lauren
