Clarity

Darlene let out a deep sigh as she ran her fingers across the top of the water. She was standing in the sea, up to her waist in the water, letting the moment surround her. It was late at night and finally, she was alone. The entire week she had been surrounded by accounting professionals. People that always wanted to talk numbers and never seemed to truly experience life. She had to brace herself for the last day of the conference in the morning. She had committed to an 8am session. The topic was the latest accounting software and she was obligated to bring extensive notes back to her firm. With one last sigh, she walked back towards the sand and finally emerged from the sea. Her dress was sopping wet. She hadn’t bothered to change before entering the water, she did so on a whim. She needed a moment to escape.

Darlene walked off the elevator lost in thought, she was still completely absorbed in herself and her thoughts of the sea when she suddenly bumped into someone standing in front of the vending machine. It was Paul, the scraggly accounting manager from Cincinnati she had met on Tuesday.

“Oh, Paul! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Paul looked up, startled out of his trance of deciding between a KitKat and a Mountain Dew.

“Hi Darlene! No worries.”

He paused and looked inquisitively at her dress that was beginning to leave a puddle of water at her feet.

“Forget to bring a swimsuit?” He smiled ever so slightly, as if he saw her as foolish for even wanting to venture outside the four walls of the hotel.

“No” Darlene replied. “Just felt like being spontaneous.”

“Ah, I see. Well, have a nice rest of your night. I’ll see you tomorrow for the NetSuite seminar – should be a very exciting session!” He then proceeded to pull a wrinkly dollar bill out of his pocket and press A5 to finalize his KitKat selection.

Darlene nodded tightly and walked swiftly down the hall. She finally reached her room and quickly swiped her key, walked in and shut the door. She dropped her bag next to the bed and walked into her bright white bathroom. She put both of her hands on the sink and looked up into the mirror and stared.

Her face looked tired under the fluorescent lights. Her hair was curly and frizzy from the humidity of the Miami air. She was originally from Pittsburgh, used to harsh winters and dealing with the never ending traffic of I-79. She decided to become an accountant when she was 19. She didn’t have much direction at the time and she just wanted something steady and reliable. According to her advisor, accountants were always needed. And she’d always had a head for numbers, so why not?

Now, at 33, she was wondering why she chose this job. She was good at it, yes, and she never worried about not being needed in the professional world. But she was bored. She never felt satisfied. The only joy she found in life lately was from her cooking. She had started getting into cooking around 22 years old. She was fresh out of college and came to the realization that frozen meals just weren’t cutting it. So she started buying cookbooks, started challenging herself to try new dishes. Eventually, she started trying things out of her comfort zone. Boiled pork belly, sea urchin guacamole tacos, peeping mushroom pasta. The strangest things that she would constantly have to travel out of town for so she could collect all of the ingredients. She loved it. She loved the excitement that came with the different taste of every new dish and the inspiration from the different cultures who created them. She started to get into her presentation as well. Something that tastes so good should look good too right? She took pictures and started a new anonymous Instagram to post them and keep record of her progress. She had a couple hundred followers on the page now – not a huge following, but enough to keep her from deleting the page.

Coming to Miami she saw so many different restaurants around town. She had been in the city for the entire week and had tried a new location every night. Her favorite so far was an Italian place called Ferraro’s. The outdoor seating was nothing short of serene, and the presentation of each dish was so clean and precise. It was obvious that extreme care was put into every chop and every sprinkle of seasoning.

Darlene emerged from the shower, having just rinsed off the last of the sea. She brushed her hair, pulled on an old t-shirt and crawled into bed. She picked up her phone and started to research the chef of Ferraro’s. His name was Igor. His website showed details of his studies. He traveled places such as Venice, Rome, and Paris. He studied different cultures by being immersed in them. He got to see and experience a full understanding of the food and it’s background. Darlene felt envy and longing as she read more about his travels. It sounded like a dream. A dream that she was too late for. It would be too much work, too much money to start over. What about her dog, Winston? He couldn’t handle that much travel. What about her mortgage? She needed to have steady income to pay it. What about her age? The pressure from family and friends to settle down and have kids was ongoing. To provide them with a steady lifestyle.

She sighed, set her alarm, locked her phone and set it on the nightstand. Cooking could remain a hobby, it was fine. Stay in the safe choice. The choice you went to school for, the choice you are in so much debt because of. Live your life the way it is already set up, so you won’t be living a large dream – but you will be comfortable and you will eventually find happiness within…right?

Darlene’s alarm woke her abruptly at 6:30am. She yawned and stretched and unenthusiastically pulled herself out of bed. She fixed her hair so that she would look like a clean-cut professional, picked her final pantsuit of the trip, started to pack up her things (she would be leaving for the airport early the next morning) and grabbed her purse and her room key. She headed downstairs to grab a muffin and some orange juice from the breakfast buffet before the NetSuite seminar. She sat at a table by herself as she slowly ate her muffin and counted down the minutes until she could no longer stall and would need to enter the conference room. She scrolled through her phone to find the final restaurant that she would treat herself to that night. She chose a modern Asian eatery and perused the menu until she saw the time was 7:55. She got up, threw out her napkin and tossed her cup into the dish basin and headed to conference room C42.

She walked in and almost immediately saw Paul in the first row. He was chattering excitedly to the man next to him, with a notepad and pen out, ready to hear how this software would undoubtedly change his life.

Darlene quickly slid into the last row and did her best to hide herself from his view. The presenter began speaking, and Darlene took her obligatory notes. The entire time she found herself thinking, “Focus. You need to focus.” She was bored. She was tired of hearing about equity, net income and gross margins. But it was the last day. She just had to get through this last day, then she could head to the restaurant and have a weekend at home before returning to the mundane reality she had chosen for herself.

At 5pm Darlene’s last seminar had wrapped up. She called an Uber and decided to go to an early dinner. It was March, so the sun was still setting ridiculously early and she didn’t want to be out too late. She got to the restaurant, sat down and ordered the most interesting dish she could find on the menu earlier that day, grilled octopus. The texture was brand new to her, the presentation was stunning and she once again found herself wishing she could learn more about the culture. Be immersed in the inspiration that created this dish. What an incredible life it must be to feel that passion and inspiration every single day.

Darlene took one last trip out to the beach that night. She sat down in the sand and pulled a towel that she had taken from her hotel room out of her bag and laid on top of it. She looked up at the clear sky and admired the stars. As she looked up and observed each star, sitting in the sky with complete ease, she had an epiphany. Why was she denying herself joy? Why was she denying herself passion? Let’s be realistic, she hated accounting. Just because you are good at something, doesn’t mean you should pursue it your entire life. The only excitement she found this week was when she walked into a new restaurant after every day of required accounting minutia was over.

She made the decision right there, lying on that white hotel towel. She would return on Monday with her conference notes, and a resignation letter. It was time for her to find her true place and follow her passion. She would apply to culinary school. She would travel. She wasn’t going to let the fear of losing comfort and stability keep her from moving forward any longer. Her new journey began there, on a Miami Beach, under the stars.