heavens kitchen, homeless mission, new orleans.

pretty boy and I decided to volunteer @ the mission and served transients today. red beans and rice with sausage, a slice of cake, a glass of gatorade, and water were the elements in their dinner course. women and men sat separately, divided by pink strawberry breading and chocolate swirl angels food. one nearly empty bottle of hot sauce was assigned to each table seating 7 people.

while I was behind the bullet proof serving window - one spoon rice, one ladle full beans, one sausage; one spoon rice, one ladle full beans, one sausage; one spoon rice, one ladle full beans, one sausage - pretty boy was bringing water to fill in everyone's donated starbucks venti cup. I was moving fast and didn't get a chance to look at many faces that I served, but I'll be damned if every one of them didn't walk back up the to window to say thank you.

all I did was spoon rice and beans onto a plate and wiped down some tables. people said thank you so sincerely, and I didn't feel like I did anything. two hours of my time and you're profusely thanking me as if I had given you your last dinner. kinda put shit into perspective for me. hell, this semi-warm meal of starch might be just your last meal.

red beans and rice is a sufficient final supper. I'd be pleased as long as I died on a monday.