I’m a simple girl, after all. I’ve been diving into my memory closet a fair amount as we continue to deal with the pandemic. As foodies, seeking out the quirky diner or locally hailed dive for breakfast is a pleasure we’ve had to curtail as of late. What follows is a short snippet penned after many return visits to a favorite haunt near relatives down south. It could be any local hangout anywhere. I invite you to explore the social, historical, and often metaphorical depths of such places the next time you visit one. There’s usually quite a bit of gravity in such simple spaces. I then encourage you to pen your thoughts, hopefully allowing you to smile and revisit happiness on what seems to be many excruciatingly frustrating days as of late.
Leaving the light on for you,
Carol
A rush of air stirs the fine hairs on my crossed arms. A bustling waitress, arms full of clean coffee cups, briskly passes us en route to her table, its tired recipients grateful to receive their morning jolt. A swirling cloud of food envy envelopes us as we wait. The delightful smokiness in the air is balanced by scents of fresh biscuits, eggs, and fried potatoes. The counter is lined with locals – farmers, professionals, seniors – all starting this new day in familiar camaraderie. Mugs clink, forks scrape and conversation flows along with the free refills. I sit quietly, enjoying the fervor of the morning as I read the scribbled menu on the grease board complete with the plethora of daily pie selections.
The faded mural in the entry would suggest a place time has slightly passed by. We chuckle every time we pass it, noting another torn corner or pair of initials scribed for posterity. But the tired exterior belies the life-giving sustenance inside. In fact it grossly underestimates it. This local haunt has been here likely since the beginning of this town’s time. Its flavors have outlived culinary trends, politics, and changing social values. It has remained an honest constant, serving up plates of home in troubled times. I for one doubt it will ever change. And I’m grateful. Grateful time has stood still here. Grateful the patrons see past the tired aesthetics for what really matters. Grateful there’s still a place to call home.