26 March 2016 – 5:30 am, Toronto
It would have been to easy to step off the bus and walk over to Denny’s for a Grand Slam breakfast. I made that visit several times in the Autumn, upon my late evening returns to Toronto. Walk over to the restaurant and take a swivel stool at the long breakfast bar. I recall lying to C. about my arrival time, telling her the bus was late, to justify the lateness of my arrival home.
I soooo love the food. All variation of eggs, hash browns, breakfast meat, chicken steak with gravy, etc . . . I also appreciated the time to myself. Gathering my thoughts, preparing to re-enter the world of husband and father. I recall watching the end of one of the Blue Jays’ playoff games from that stool in Denny’s.
And, of course, there was a woman. A young, lovely hard working Latina. Barely looked up the first time I came in, but remembered my chocolate milkshake on a subsequent visit. She reminded me of the woman who did my pedicure at the Men’s Power Spa – M. Both young, and beautiful. Sassy and Spanish. I remember wishing that I could speak Spanish when in their company. I have some understanding, but my spoken skills are muy mal. Maybe some effort in their native language might have tipped their interest from me as a customer, to me as a man.
My first black ink day in the journal. Borrowing a pen from dear son G’s desk, as both he and I were reluctant to go downstairs for a blue pen. He is furiously pretend-typing on his pretend-laptop. I am lying in the lower bunk, under his Fire Engine Red duvet, half writing and half sleeping. It’s been a relaxing day and a half since I arrived. “Sleepies” before anything else, on Friday morning after my early morning arrival.