May 31
I went to the old drive in for breakfast this morning. It’s been a while since I was last there.
I remember hanging out at Marty’s during high school, not much has changed since then. I sat in the car under the red and white metal awning. The few cars there were arranged in a semi circle facing the red and white checked front with the chrome strip gleaming in the morning sun.
I could see Laura and Nancy inside. The morning shift still belonged to the ladies, three women now in their fifties who ran the drive in. Martha was still manning the grill. Nancy was taking orders and running out the food. Laura must have been in the back tidying up and preparing for the day’s business.
It wasn’t long before Nancy had taken my order and return with a hash and egg sandwich, sunny side up. I sat there staring at the old picnic tables, the warm yoke running into the hash, soaking the bread and my napkin.
We use to hang out here in high school. We’d talk about the things we were going to do and the places we were going to go. I don’t remember ever saying I was going to go to the local college, get a job and live here the rest of my life. No, I’d sit on the picnic table with my friends talking about art school, painting, and traveling to foreign places.
“I’m going to art school in Chicago,” I would say, “I’ll live in Italy and travel to London, Paris and Rome.”
But life didn’t happen that way. I was left waiting, waiting until Allie didn’t need me, waiting until I finished school, and finally until my son was older. When do I stop waiting and start doing?
My thoughts were interrupted by the whirl wind that accompanied Allie as she jumped in the front seat. She practically climbed on my lap to place her order. It wasn’t long before the smell of pancakes and syrup was mixed with eggs and hash.
“What are you doing?” I asked Allie.
“Having breakfast,” she replied with a mouthful of pancakes.
“Why here?”
“Because I don’t want to get syrup on my car.”
That was just like Allie. I decided to ask her the question that was on my mind. I thought I might be able to find an answer through her.
“Did you come here when you were in high school?”
“Yea, sure I think everyone does. Why?” she replied, pouring more syrup on her pancakes.
I tried to explain it to her.
“I was thinking about all the plans I had back then. I haven’t done anything I thought I would.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I mean my job.”
“You have the perfect job.”
“I just create reports to help other people make decisions, without actually making any of my own.”
“Who does all that stuff they talk about in high school anyway?” Allie continued taking another bite.
Yes, who does all that stuff they talk about in high school, certainly not me.
I asked Allie the big question.
“If all jobs paid the same, what would you be?”
“I’d be my own personal shopper,” she replied without skipping a beat like she’d already thought it all out.
I was supposed to want to a real estate management firm. That’s what everyone said I should do, so that must be what I should want. But I didn’t.
I don’t know if any of became what we wanted to become.
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Hi John, Only a lucky few who have the guts. Dee
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Accumulating, analyzing the chapters of her life. She still sounds ‘in-between’ suspended between shock and disbelief. I like it. Still enjoying the read, Dee. ❤
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Hello my favorite lady. Yes, but this too will pass. Dee
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Indeed. I understand that but in the meantime I’m enjoying the read. 😀
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Coming to your blog after a long gap. Have probably lost the thread but still find the stories to be gripping.
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