It was fabulous. One man, Bob, whom we affectionately called 310, his regular order was black coffee, two eggs over medium and one slice dry wheat toast, cost $3.10. Those were the days. xo
BTW, I'm still foraging for twigs and pine needles and acorns to make my little forest people. At this rate, I'll have a tiny village! haha
So many of the good places we liked closed during the pandemic. But we have found new favorites since then. The one little restaurant just around the corner survived Covid only to burn to the ground a year later. My husband is still looking for the perfect cheeseburger since they are gone.
Beautiful capture of the way life mixes ups wonders with the ingredients available it can never repeat because of the ephemerality of those ingredients.
Aw, Abigail. I read all of your posts. This esp. was poignant as my 50th high school reunion was this weekend, and although I did not attend, I read the list of who did in facebook, and who was originally in our graduating class of '73, and who have passed on. So many have already left this earth. I was caught off guard. This piece encapusalates the immediate hit of memory with the days and the friends who have gone by.
I used to call my mom when I was driving alone in my car, after I dropped my kids at school, or anytime I found myself alone in my car, really, which wasn’t often as a single mom. I still have the urge to call her when I’m driving, though it’s been three years since that was a possibility. And there are days I still forget that I can’t. I loved this, even though it hurt. And I’m very sorry for your loss.
Now I’m hungry and it’s not dinnertime yet.
Dinnertime is anytime you're hungry. Eat
A melancholy memory that brought me with you.
I'm glad, and thank you. Now your turn for a melancholy memory, Georgetta.
Once upon a time, I had a restaurant with many customers whom I fed without uttering a word. It was pure comfort. Thank you for this memory. Hugs.
Lucky you! I bet it was terrific.
It was fabulous. One man, Bob, whom we affectionately called 310, his regular order was black coffee, two eggs over medium and one slice dry wheat toast, cost $3.10. Those were the days. xo
BTW, I'm still foraging for twigs and pine needles and acorns to make my little forest people. At this rate, I'll have a tiny village! haha
Don't forget to send photos of what you make! Please!
Beautiful, but sad, piece. I hated to put a heart. I wanted to put a hug.
oh, a hug. Thank you very much.
I hate that he's not here. Got any ice cream around?
you bet I do. thanks.
Loss is a bitch.
It sure is.Thank you.
That made my eyes tear up. Thank you, Abigail.
So many of the good places we liked closed during the pandemic. But we have found new favorites since then. The one little restaurant just around the corner survived Covid only to burn to the ground a year later. My husband is still looking for the perfect cheeseburger since they are gone.
Dang, just dang...
Thank you, Jude. Perfect response.
Beautiful capture of the way life mixes ups wonders with the ingredients available it can never repeat because of the ephemerality of those ingredients.
Thank you. What a good way to put it. Just like that.
Some people and places simply aren’t repeatable. It’s awful and beautiful.
Makes my heart smile and then ache. Thank you.
Thank you, Brenda. Me too.
Aw, Abigail. I read all of your posts. This esp. was poignant as my 50th high school reunion was this weekend, and although I did not attend, I read the list of who did in facebook, and who was originally in our graduating class of '73, and who have passed on. So many have already left this earth. I was caught off guard. This piece encapusalates the immediate hit of memory with the days and the friends who have gone by.
Beautiful.
Thank you. He was pretty great.
I used to call my mom when I was driving alone in my car, after I dropped my kids at school, or anytime I found myself alone in my car, really, which wasn’t often as a single mom. I still have the urge to call her when I’m driving, though it’s been three years since that was a possibility. And there are days I still forget that I can’t. I loved this, even though it hurt. And I’m very sorry for your loss.
Oh my heart—the ongoingness of loss. As simple and normal as a burger and fries or the closing of a favored lunch spot. So damn tender, Abby.