Pete’s diner

I watched her throw silverware around and shuffle pots and pans the last 15 years of my childhood. Every night. Religiously. I never quite understood why and I never asked. She’d stare into a seemingly empty wall but her eyes told a different story. They were bright and awake and a sideways smile would creep into the side of her cheek like a spider pulling the last thread of her web.

As time passed I would no longer sit idolly by watching this every evening. I learned to occupy myself with music and homework and even writing a pen pal as I got older. The years passed, but the loud kitchen Ruckus would always continue. Until it didn’t. Here I stand now looking at her cold hands and pale face wondering why I never knew her story. She was my mother yet so much so a stranger. And now it’s to late.

Summer came to an end that year and as the crisp air and fall leaves swept in like a midnight sky, I was left with the memories and the made up stories I convinced myself to always believe about her. My life went onward and I learned to cope with the loss of this distant piece of my life’s puzzle I grew dependent upon. I met a boy. We got a dog and named him Pete—I don’t know why I chose Pete—it just made sense. The years passed and many falls came and gone until we welcomed our own little ones into this world. My life was what I wanted it to be. I found comfort in loving and caring for my family. I gave my all to my little world with big, bright blue eyes and the other with twinkling green eyes. They were my favorite part of my day.

On one winter morning our furnace broke. My babies were cozy in bed with me as he worked on fixing the heater and waiting on the repair man. And then the door shut and our sweet home was as quiet as a library in the heart of an old farm town. I waited until my Little’s fell asleep and then I quietly creeped into our hallway to look and see where he was. No one was there. He was gone. The boy I met and loved and bought Pete with was gone.

Could he have gone out for hot cocoa to come back and surprise us? He knows that’s our favorite treat. We waited, we slept, the cold night passed and the morning brought the same silence.

He was gone. No where to be found. This was a similar experience to something in my childhood, but I couldn’t quite recall why. When I was young Our home was always quiet and always wreaked of women’s perfume, lit candles and everything feminine. Much like how my living room smells now.

I needed to breathe.

My neighbor came over to watch my kids so I could seek out answers. I fumbled around in the cold air looking for my keys in my large overused handbag to no avail and found myself plopped in the cold snow crying for answers and peace. I knew I couldn’t find it here so I gathered myself and I stood up, finally found my keys and took myself anywhere but here. Where I was in that moment was not where I was meant to be.

The radio played songs that cut deep of course. I wallowed in my sorrow while listening to old U2 hits. Allowing myself to weep and hyperventilate was wearing yet I found solemn in that place. The roads were winding and filled with ice. The night sky was bright with stars but endless and reminded me how small I was. I drove for what felt like hours until I came upon a small quaint diner named Pete’s that was calling out to me.

I pulled in. My headlights glaring through the glass. All 3 people inside turned to see what I’ll fated stranger came to interrupt their nightly routines. But I went in. I sat at the stool closet to the flat top stove at the bar and I took a deep breath.

The waitress was an old woman with fire engine red hair named Sara. She spoke with an accent I couldn’t quite figure out, but she kept calling me darlin. Sara asked me what I wanted to order and the only thing I could think of was a hot cocoa. “Sure darlin” she said as she walked away with a slight limp.

I couldn’t help but sigh and laugh at the sarcastic humor behind my life’s moment leading me here. At Pete’s. With Sara and 2 older gentlemen sipping their coffees. I closed my eyes and took in the sounds around me. The shuffling pans, the clanging of the silverware, the splattering of the grease off the stove top. I found peace in that moment. And then I realized.. I was her.