Wednesday, May 28, 2014

the soft place

Today I took the children to one of my favorite places for lunch, the LA Cafe.  The teachers are on rotating strikes here in British Columbia, so there was no school.

Trevor slurped most of his chocolate milk through a straw while we waited.

"Save the rest," I said, "for when your food comes."

"Okay, then I will do this!" he said, and blew bubbles in it.  I could've fussed about that, for the sake of table manners, but I thought, Meh. Every kid likes to blow bubbles with a straw and he'll grow out of it one day.

Our waitress, Grace, arrived with our meals and offered him more chocolate milk.  I asked for water instead.  She's one of those people—you can tell she's not in this just to make a buck.  Light pours from her as she sets down cups, as she refills them, and she's always happy to see us.

It's the gentleness I love.  Both Grace and Hank, with their smiling light brown faces.

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