Fancy smancy dinner night with Peter
Christy, Chris and Stephanie at Roy
complete with Roy's
Melting Hot Chocolate Soufflé
that bled chocolate "motor oil"
when you cut into the side right out onto your little ball of vanilla ice cream.
It was good and it was pricy, but one can free one's conscience about an expensive
meal when one has dined exclusively on saltine crackers many a night in the past
We never ate at nice restaurants when I was growing up; I learned formal table
etiquette in the auditorium at school from a local business man who hoped we
would all go far but feared we would not. My first quarter of college was paid
for with the change taken from my grandparents' pockets every night and dropped
into a large green jug. There are always nights, like tonight, when I want to
sit with some tokay
that little creek-side pine tree at my PaPa's fish hatchery and tear reality
into little shreds that the stream of water will willingly take away. Water
is the generous agent of forgetfulness on which the burdens of man are carried
into the Lethe. "Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs
through it." I, too, "am haunted by waters."