“Joe, number three, scrambled”, the waitress called out, turning toward the window in the kitchen, then making her way to another table of waiting customers.
As I waited, my mind drifted. I remembered the day I first met Brent. I had bumped into him at Java Jive, my favorite coffee shop. He had flashed a thousand watt smile at me, his twinkling blue eyes contrasting sharply with his dark, chocolate brown hair. I was entranced, smiling shyly as he introduced himself. An hour later, he had won me over. I shuddered. Instead of happiness, the memories washed over me in a wave of pain. The cook slapped his spatula on the order bell, startling me so severely, I almost fell off my stool.
“Sorry”, the cook muttered, with a smirk.
I was not amused. The balding cook reminded her of the character “Mel” on the old tv sitcom “Alice”. I had a good mind to tell him to “kiss my grits”. Seconds later, the waitress scurried over and scooped up my food, depositing it in front of me.
“Enjoy”, she called, as she dashed off to assist yet another customer, coffee pot in hand.
The waffle looked delicious and I coated it liberally with butter and syrup, but, I was a little concerned about the appearance of the eggs. I wondered how often the cook cleaned his grill. After I finished every last bite of the waffle and the accompanying hash browns, I motioned for the waitress and the check. The waitress obliged, dropping the check beside my plate.
“Something wrong with the eggs?” she asked, noting them untouched.
“Umm, no, I just got full on the waffle”, I explained, pulling some bills from my back pocket, and turning to leave.
“Have a good day” the waitress called, dropping the money into the cash register.
“You too” I smiled, and made my way back to her car.
Sliding behind the wheel, I became melancholy. I missed my family, and wished I could just turn around and go back. But, that was impossible. “Someday”, I thought, wistfully. I sat for a few more moments, watching the cars whizzing by on the main highway. I had no desire to get back into that mad rush, or the impending traffic. On impulse, I consulted my map, and decided to take back roads instead. It would be a nice change of pace.
“Time to see what I’ve been missing”, I said aloud, pulling onto a side street.
After driving for a few hours, along tree-lined roads, I found myself gazing at some of the most beautiful country I had ever seen. Rolling green hills stretched out on either side of me, with fields of wildflowers, and sprawling farms. Fluffy, cotton-like clouds floated effortlessly in a sea of azure sky. I found it hard to keep my eyes on the road. I drove slowly, taking it all in. Suddenly, I spotted a small roadside stand. It was colorful and enticing. I had to stop. An older woman with silver-grey hair and a straw hat was making change for another customer, when I stepped up. I picked a small basket of red, ripe strawberries, and some sweetly fragrant apples. I turned to pay the woman and it was then that I noticed a rough wooden sign. It was weather worn, and faded, but the words were still legible. “Room to Rent”, it said. Turning around, I shielded my eyes from the sun as I looked at the farmhouse. It sat back off the road a good distance, but it was charming, with its flower beds, rose bushes and wrap-around porch. A wooden swing hung at one end, gently swaying in the late summer breeze. It was perfect. I nibbled my lip thoughtfully. The sign was really old, and perhaps the room was no longer available, but, I had to try. I turned to the woman to pay for my fruit.
Sanctuary
Start from the beginning
