Light glittered off the huckleberry syrup decanter sitting on the shelf in front of me, on the mantel above the grill, while cars passed and fractured the light coming through the large cafe windows behind me.
I sat at the counter, nor really out of choice, but because all the booths were already full when I walked into Oliver's Cafe at noon today.
After being greeted and receiving a large mug of black coffee and looked through the menu and ordered the "Big Breakfast" an item on the menu which had caught my eye, and I have to say with size of the servings of country style Idaho potatoes sauteed with onions and green peppers, country style sausage, and three eggs over easy and the small bowl of sausage gravy on the side along with the two slices of sour dough toast cut into triangles and raspberry jam, it more than lived up to its name.
Today was a special day as I had come into town on one of my infrequent trips to write in a cafe alone and unfettered by the need to make conversation with someone across from me, or near by. I do this from time to time to touch base with elements in my past when I wrote a great deal more. In the past I would write and reflect, but today it is more accurate to say I now reflect then write. I really enjoy these moments, because we are never really alone in our mind, as the voices of the past reach out to us.
With my normal grace like a hog in a wallow, I floundered to find stability in order to write, with all that wanted to leak out of my head. As if a sigh, a thought like a thread which grew large enough to become a path on which I could travel for a time and was free to jump off at anytime, or follow until it came to a natural end. Breaking my fast from writing I started scribbling all that came to my mind, with my trusty pencil in hand and stopped when the sounds of the life slowly drifted back to me and the syrup on the mantel winked at me, letting me know the time had come, and I was done.