Breakfast at Tommies

In Westfield with dad. That handsome guy that wore the white apron, kinda quiet. Never asked what dad wanted, just gave him the same thing everyday, at the same green marbled table. The smell of that place was breakfast. Toast, butter and muffins. His little shiny toaster in front of the window. Deer heads on the wall. Old newspaper headlines from the 50’s hanging framed.
Sleeping in the car: Almost three weeks now. The first week was really frustrating because the police kept kicking me out of public parking lots. The first night it poured out of nowhere and I left my overhead window open a crack and there was a streak of soaking wet running across my quilt. I usually get about five or six hours and I always wake up very suddenly…like “AAAAhhhhhh!” and I never go back to sleep. The sun comes up so early these days.
I haven’t watched tv in three weeks and I don’t miss it at all. At night radio waves carry better and I explore the AM radio. I fell asleep to a talk show from Toronto the other night.
I stayed at my friend Bobs house a couple nights but it feels rather awkward.
It has felt awkward since I gave my home to my kids eight years ago. I miss companionship. The divorce left me incapable of a relationship for several years. I have been listening to “Blood on the Tracks” over and over again. Almost like I was on my bunk bed in 1975 again. I opened up an old wound and found myself crying and angry and heartbroken again.
I used to have a therapist that fell asleep on me EVERY damn time I went to see him. I used to make up crazy shit just to see if the Shock could keep him awake.
Once I had sex with a Japanese girl but I was horny again an hour later. Her pubic hair was very fine like silk and I thought it would be good material to make a nice
vest
or tie.
I have been watching the June Solstice moon with a woman the last few days. Last night under a gorgeous Cranford Summer sky night we looked up at it together. It was almost full.
When we hugged, I felt like I was home again, or someplace where I might not get kicked out. It was warm and comfy and the smell of her perfume and hair made me crazy.
I will never give up my home again, or my fireplace, gardens or deck…..where I used to watch the stars with a telescope.
Breakfast at Tommies is like a good woman. You feel like you are always home and it smells like home. Being in a room that is filled with history and compassion and orange juice and hot coffee.
Right now in this bookstore cafe I have the perfect view of a young childs eyes as her mother reads her a story. It is so beautiful and amazing. I am so glad I read to my children almost every night when we were together. They still remember that.
I hope they do it with their children and I hope that they take them to a place like
Tommies for Breakfast.

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3 Responses to “Breakfast at Tommies”

  1. Ann says:

    “I am so glad I read to my children almost every night when we were together. They still remember that.”

    They remember things that we thought were insignificant but made a HUGE difference to them. It is how the legacy goes on & on…..
    I am going to get my daughter soon. She stayed the night at her sister’s house. She has only been here (permanently) 2 years but it seems like so much longer. That is a great thing! And them she will grow older & smarter and move out one day. But she will remember Friday pizza nights, Thanksgiving campfires, swimming in the pool, Mom & Gary always being there for her and all the many, many cookouts we had and she will choose to do some of these with her own children.

  2. Loree says:

    Wonderful expalnaiton of facts available here.

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