Thirty-six years later, conversation still bubbled forth, not one corner of the universe that didn't invite colliding curiosity. So, like explorers launching into uncharted territories, we launched into ideas and thoughts, experiences and questions.
Yet, out of nowhere... it wasn't a constellation. It was more like billions of threads weaving together a tapestry from long ago, and in between words and private thoughts those days reappeared. Our conversation was the only thing we had left of the L&M diner on the corner of 10th and Second...
...the one where they took their then itty-bitty daughter every Sunday, so much so that when her aunt took her once, the daughter knew exactly what and how to order...
...the one where I, with a 17 year old's knowledge of cooking and the sudden care of an adult life, new to this apartment, that painting on that wall then, retreated daily to the diner's counter and ordered lunch and then again later in the day dinner specials, asking for family and home served in a plate and watching the owner and cook's strong burly arms place food down before me, his faded blue number tattoo dancing before me as we both sought solace.
3 comments:
Some places become a home away from home..even in memory.
Nice memories, when did the place close?
It was one of the early casualties of change - had to be early to mid 80's.
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