Ballad of the sad cafe

She’s a waitress in a small cafe in a tiny New England town. Could she possibly know what a big difference she made this morning? Might she somehow sense that she quite possibly changed the course of history? That she might have made the universe tilt on its axis? That she quite possibly altered the trajectory of time? That she, at the very least, probably saved my day?

Let’s try to describe her. She was wearing a wedding ring. She was about…I don’t know how old she is…let’s say she looks young…or at least younger than her age…maybe she’ll read this…maybe that will make her feel good…she is not tall…she has a nice smile and displays it easily and often..she has short dark hair….she has nice eyes but I don’t even know the color…that is all I remember…I wasn’t focused on how she looked…

She smiled easily when she leaned across the table and took my order. She spoke with a gentle tone when she asked later if I wanted more coffee…she laughed a soft laugh when I replied “Not quite yet but pretty damned soon…It’s a two-cup morning…” She saw me looking at her one last time as I walked out the door…hoping to catch her eye so she would know that I had noticed her and had appreciated her kind way…and, indeed, her eyes followed me as I walked out the door…I think she knew we had made a human connection…transient, mutable, ephemeral and wispy as it might be…nothing to do with love or passion….she’s got a wedding ring and I’ve got a heart still laden and loaded with love…No, it was just that we had noticed each other…we had been nice to each other…she had poured me an extra cup of coffee…she had smiled goodbye as I walked out the door…she had made note of my departure…It feels good to be noticed…it means we exist…

It’s another cold night in New England…the wind yowls and howls..it shakes the windows and rattles the walls… I’m actually sitting in what might pass for a cold and bare and gloomy garrett just like the ones in melodramatic novels in which the characters have names like Heathcliff and Rochester…

I wish that waitress could read what I’ve just written…just so she could know that her gentle way…her oh-so-obvious inner peace…her aura…her vibe…that they’re important…they’re worthwhile…that they make a difference…you’re a waitress working hard in a small town cafe…but you’re able to make the world spin faster…or slower..scrambled eggs…English muffin…two cups of coffee…it must get so redundant and dull…but the world is at your command…

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