This past week, I was sitting in the restaurant my wife and I own, Twisted Soul Cookhouse and Pours. Just like every other locally owned restaurant, we are in a daze. Some moments we seem to think we may have the answers, then other moments we are trying to figure out what is best for our employees, our family and the business overall.

The memories of who we were as a business just three weeks ago haunt me. I can see the guests at the tables and servers doing what servers do. The restaurant was alive—unlike what I am experiencing now.

I wasn’t home when we had to shift gears from being a full-service restaurant and bar to a takeout service. The impact for me was delayed. When I got home, I immediately went to the restaurant like a parent rushing to the emergency room after hearing that their child had been harmed. Deborah had warned me over the phone that the place would look and feel different. How could that be, I thought, as the Uber driver pulled up to our Huff Road address.

As I walked into Twisted Soul; I lost my breath. Tables were cleared. The bar was missing its mats. The silence was deafening. No one was cooking, no vendors coming in, nothing new on the menu or bar for me to try. The sounds of Twisted Soul were gone and I immediately worried that the “soul” of our restaurant had been stolen by the coronavirus.

My composure was wavering, and I needed to keep a brave face so that those around me didn’t despair. I went into the restroom to pray and cry.

This pandemic has affected the hospitality industry in ways no one could imagine. As we are navigating this crisis, I have come to realize that the hospitality industry understands and readily demonstrates the true meaning of caring for your neighbor. We have come together to feed each other, pass a few dollars that we have stowed away for a rainy day, and drink on Facebook live to keep each other grounded and numb to the political foolery. Our chefs are cooking online, cooking in their kitchens for us, and trying to find some form of normalcy in this crazy time.

This weekend I went into the restaurant to nurture our outside plants. The plants looked as sad as I felt. As I removed weeds from the planters, I realized that some of their roots had grown deeply into the metal containers. They had taken hold and made it difficult for me to remove them. I was determined, and I pulled and pulled until old roots were gone and new soil was ready to be put into the pot. I believe that we are at a place where we have the opportunity to plant new flowers, replacing with new soil and new ideas. We can press forward to create a beautiful new planter of gorgeous flowers.

Remember, my fellow hospitality gurus: Eat, Drink and Wash Your Hands.