Waffle House Algorithm

I walked early this morning-just as the sun was escaping into the sky. The low clouds were smoking the blue and adding dabs of color. Life is like that. Sometimes it is crystal clear and other times fuzzy. I thought even further-aging is a lot like that. The day starts out unclear and steadily comes into focus as time marches on. Should I be thankful for focus or time? Probably both. The clean lines and simplicity of my early morning tryst with omelette and bacon, is comforting. Everything is in plain sight; no smoke and mirrors. Most of all I like the busyness. Long time customers are called by their first names and shuffle slowly up to the register to pay. Each patron is greeted when they enter (a Southern paean to customer service) and farewelled when they leave. This might be a little too dramatic for some but not to me. The Waffle House where I live symbolizes community and belonging. Sitting by the register, I can get in my daily dose of people watching. How many faces are transformed when they are singled out by hearing their name. It seems the slower the gait and the whiter the hair, the more valued they become. Or maybe I am just grappling with the antediluvian concept of aging in a society that puts a premium on staying young.

A Little Love?

Somedays I need it more than others
It's what keeps me rooted to this chair
Love is seeing trees against the sky
Colors of the universe
Dreams

Friends are an infinite source
Music drums my steps to new heights
Clouds crashing against the chasm of my soul
My husband showing me the moon
Tears

 An affirmation that life will continue
Stars that blink across the sky
Babies that smile with limitless wonder
A simple rose that opens up to the ancient of days
Our children