The Upcoming Snowstorm

Author: siggy

The area was rife with rumor

I simply waited

I don’t trust weather forecasts

I kept though peering at the sky

Waiting for the first flakes

I even took some

Precautions:

Filled up my tub

With water

An outage

Could demonstrate

How much water

We wasted every day

And assume

Will always be there

Flushing the toilet

Reminds us of this

The supermarkets

Were impossibly busy

Yesterday

As if everyone

Needed bread and eggs

I viewed all this

With sorrow

We all should

Have this problem

Thousands of miles

Away

An country

Has millions

With nothing

They own

But their backs

And many broken

Waiting

Waiting

and despair

Unimaginable

And we are afraid

Of a few flakes

Sharon, the waitress, at the local diner is more than a waitress.  I found out she has worked there more than twenty years.  It is her calling.  She has on-going relationships with her customers.

She knows I often take my toast and give it to my dogs.  Today she told me, “I do not give my dogs extra food for they get fat enough on just the dog food I feed them.”  Not her exact words but a good paraphrase.

She is there (in the diner) for the long haul.  She loves her job and lives nearby.  I found out today her squash is not doing well in her garden.  Their buds keep falling out prematurely.  Maybe there was too much rain the last four weeks.

I am not extravagant with my tips but I tip accordingly; I give her a decent tip depending on my order.  I want to let her know I appreciate her excellent service.

She is a one woman show, usually she is the only waitress on and there is one cook.  In the early morning sometimes the waitress does every thing including cooking.

I eavesdrop on the conversations at the nearby tables.  It is amazing sometimes what I overhear.  Sometimes I do not talk at all.  I always sit at the counter.  Once in awhile I get into a brief conversation if someone sits nearby.

I keep returning to the diner for the coffee is good, the price of the food is inexpensive and the hash browns are always tasty and I enjoy the brief contact with the waitresses.  My order is usually very simple.  Eggs up.  Once in awhile I order a glass of orange juice.

Of course I go to the trouble of learning all the different waitresses’ names.  There is nothing like a local diner to make you feel wanted and erase some of the loneliness of the morning.  My wife is never up at that hour.