At the Café
We’d come from the doctor’s office. Guess we were hungry. Or was it the coziness of the café we needed?
The body knows about pain.
It has known that lesson since we were youngsters when we stubbed toes or had a rock in a shoe. Maybe my first encounter with pain was when I managed to cut my knee on barbed wire.
Today, I dream of health and wellness.
To the point that I tell the whole truth to the doctor and if necessary, let strange hands and instruments check and pry.
The waitress in this café wears enthusiasm. I like her shirt and tell her. She says, “It’s my way of adding to someone’s day.”
“Maybe to my day!” I respond. “Thank you.”
My husband and I sit in a booth and order coffee and a full breakfast. We order the comfort foods—eggs, bacon, biscuits, gravy, coffee. Rarely do we eat out, so it’s a treat.
Twenty miles from our house. I notice all the jellies, signs on the wall, and the couple nearby with lots of newspapers and no conversation.
They read across from each other like Blondie and Dagwood once did.
My husband and I talk about where we’ve been. We name what was intense and difficult, what was smooth and easy. I wonder aloud about a raised eyebrow made by the doctor.
He raises an eyebrow. Serious mischief.
I hear the couple nearby order coffee and juice. They know about the economy of words.
I begin to note the small movements of others in the café. Only the waitress dances between the tables with platters, glasses, coffee pots.
She smiles. It’s as if she rises above the small talk, the turning of pages, the pains of the people. It’s as if she connects -- but with light, not the encumbrances of the world.
It’s beautiful.
I think it’s a picture of love in action.
So much heaviness in this world we live in. And so little we can do about it.
The waitress is the light in the room. She flickers about, laughs with this one and that one, hands out napkins, coffee, kindness. Minutes pass and nothing spills.
I watch as though seeing a friend host a party of people.
It’s the end of summer, about to turn fall, but this is a green day, full of hope. I am a great fan of hope and waitresses giving out beautiful messages.
The message on the front of her black shirt says, “Blessed Girl.” The message on the back: “Praise the Lord, I Saw the Light.”
No doubt. Looks like she is a carrier of the Light, too.
I write about these few moments to help me keep them perfectly preserved. Helps me know more about the lovely in this world.
My hunch is that she’ll make good tips today.
God bless,
Pat Durmon
(patdurmon.com)
P.S. Always, my thanks to the readers who purchase my books and comment on & share any of my blog posts. Below are my poetry books, linked to their Amazon pages. Next Saturday, November 16, 2019, at 2:00 p.m., I will participate in a book signing at Barnes & Noble in Jonesboro, AR. Please stop in if you're in the area. The more the merrier!
Brandy Hughes, a waitress at The Cozy Kitchen in Mountain Home, Arkansas. Photographed by Pat Durmon, September 2019.
