In every hello there is a goodbye. We are free falling through time, sometimes aware, more often not. We are riding the Law of Opposites, hanging ten on a tsunami of the heart.

I woke up this morning feeling like January. Gray and cold and rather hopeless. Before I could think about it too much, I got dressed and took myself to lunch. I didn’t know where I would end up, either. But I pulled into a local restaurant and was seated, after being told “anywhere you like.” My usual choice was by a window, but that felt drafty so I moved to the front of the restaurant.

I sat there in a booth that could have seated eight. When the server appeared, I told him I wanted a fried chicken sandwich but with the thinnest possible piece. It was so delicious. Not only that, the coffee was hot and the server friendly.

He called me sweetheart, which was probably because of my age and solitude. He asked if anyone would be joining me and I said no. “Do you want me to take away the other menu, then,” he asked.

“Sure,” I said, “Let’s remove all evidence that I could possibly be joined by anyone.” I giggled. What he didn’t know was that I have 3 guys I picture eating lunch across from me. I won’t name them because you can probably guess who they are.

I no longer take my life literally. The words arise from the foamy edge of an unknown sea. I don’t know if I am coming or going, but today the chicken sandwich was awfully good.

Vicki Woodyard