Sitting In An Empty Diner

Sleeping has become an issue of late. Dreams of constant deaths, usually murders including my own, are common now. I thought you weren’t supposed to die in your dreams?

As a result, I don’t look forward to evenings and very much look forward to mornings – which brings me to this empty diner so early in the morning. Just me and a waitress who is way too old to have to get up so early in the morning in hopes of receiving good tips in an empty diner. I feel sorry for her. I shall tip her well as I got a bargain on the senior special.

Detachment. It is something I have read much about, but really never understood until nearly every item I was attached to was burned up. I thought I understood, but now I know how little I really did. I have a dear friend who donated one of her kidneys this summer to a very ill friend. I think she understands detachment.

Here is one thing I have learned about detachment…photos and items that stir our memories about people and places and times – they sometimes interfere with us recognizing the true spirit of those people, places, and times. Lately, since losing all of that, I have experienced a much deeper sense of the spirit that lies beneath all the physicality those photos and items capture. I don’t think of my grandfather holding my baby daughter in that old lost photo in the same way … as a precious captured moment. I now recognize the immense connection of two souls, one getting ready to end their journey on this earth and the other one just beginning theirs. I never contemplated that until thinking back on that lost photograph.

This forced detachment is not easy and it is nothing I would wish upon anybody. It does however offer an opportunity to be more aware, more present. Yesterday as I was walking to get a cup of coffee, I saw three leaves fall from a tree. They fluttered, each taking their own path to their final destination – the earth, to be part of an never ending cycle of renewal – but they also danced with one another on the way down. I smiled. I am not a smile-er. Yet, I smiled at the utter joyful detachment of those leaves.

Well, I have eaten my scrambled eggs and one slice of French toast. Time to tip this vibrant, hardworking waitress and go out and see the sunrise.

God bless you.

Gary