Personal Narrative: Dough Ray Me

The better part of my time in high school was spent in a little coffee shop and bakery, called Dough Ray Me. The shop was a cute place, with twinkling fairy lights that draped from the ceiling like sails on an unearthly ship. Moving down from the ceiling were the walls, which were littered with either coffee, or Christian themed artwork. Below the walls were shelves that housed sizable jugs of an assortment of coffee beans. The glass cabinets, containing shortbreads, cupcakes, and cookies, met with the stainless steel counters around the barista’s workspace in a minimalistic fashion. The orange, stamped-concrete floors supported four glass tables, twelve garbage cans, and countless chairs and stools. Dough Ray Me is where I learned to understand people, including myself. The owner of Dough Ray Me, Dawn, could only afford to have one girl work at a time. Which meant that after my first week of training, I ran the shop alone. Everything from preparing frappuccinos, restocking cups, scoring the bathroom, and locking up for the night was my job. There were thirty-two tasks to complete on my closing list. Each task had to be completed before I could leave for the night. There was joy to be found in the cleaning, however. While cleaning under the dim, I would often think about the events I’d …show more content…
I saw my own stress in the mother with too many children, attempting to have one small break from her hectic existence. In identifying common attributes, I found myself sympathizing with others more than I would have before. I built up a fondness for my own mind, and came to the realization that seclusion is not always a bad thing. When my employment at Dough Ray Me came to an end, it was bittersweet. The bitterness was found in letting go of what I knew to be my place of mindfulness. The sweet was in the releasing my new self into the world out from behind the