at breakfast this morning there was a young woman in a wheelchair who was wrapped up in a blanket enjoying her eggs. she was small and had trouble focusing and her head bobbed a little, but she was delighted with her meal and her company. her dad was a bald and hansome cowboy, with a bright orange shirt, a studded leather belt, perfectly fitting levis, and riding boots. he read the paper while the young woman got caught up on family gossip with her mom.
"no way is he 18"
"yes he is graduating high school next week and he was in a big horse show this morning"
"no way!"
"i know can you believe it? 18"
next to them another lady sat studying her two books on understanding the gospel, and her son, who owns the place, kidded her about how boring that must be and of course he could go to hell for that. she told him so.
just as we were leaving, in came a couple and the young man on his way to hell someday said "hey! you can't come in here without your parents! just kidding, i miss them - how are you guys anway?"
carol the waitress took good care of all of us as she normally does. carol is old and has a tired grey ponytail that is the same color as her eyes. Her white sneakers are cracked and dirty and she wears saggy green sweat pants and a pouchy black apron with orange juice stains. she is always here and none to pleased about that, but if you can get her to smile you know it's going to be a good day.
sometimes i see carol pulling on a cigarette while she waits for the 34th avenue bus. she shouldn't have to work so hard and i wish i could fix it.
tomorrow when i win the powerball, first thing i'll do after i pick up my oversized check is to stop in for lunch and leave carol a hundred thousand dollar tip. i think about this as i watch her ache across the floor, carrying heavy trays and diet sodas.
"what kinda toast you want today sweetie?"
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