After dropping off my favorite sister person, dreaded herself and tousled locked her boy friend, the first of two round trips to airports today. I found myself half awake, early morning baked, shaking slightly, sun hardly up, wandering the city. The logical conclusion was to be eating and enjoying my favorite meal, breakfasting. Breaking fasting from last nights favorite snack entitled a Thursday, that I ate last night while starring into corners of the room. The only place I ever could’ve gone to pops into my head like a catchy old song. Taking deep breaths of the foggy cool morning air, I parked and head feeling like a out of tune piano, I walked into a 24hr diner in the Castro. Eating here every so often since I was tiny, I sat confidently and comfortably at the counter. A particularly sweet human, grey beard and a soft smile, came and inquired about my needs. “Hot black tea chicken apple sausage eggs over easy potatoes no toast” I told him, as if it were a single item, seamless. After the order was put in, some settling and silence had occurred he then paused and said “You’re getting ready to be a crazy old lady one day, aren’t you?” Equally amusing, surprising, startling and prophetic. “Yes. Yes, I am” I said with only a momentary sleepy delay, then generating a warm real smile. Some truths are evident only with new surroundings, some truths can only be noticed by strangers. When my food arrived I asked for the necessary Dijon mustard companion to my eggs and sausage. I ate quietly while enjoying overhearing conversations and lives being lived. A favorite pastime of mine is listening to even the everyday moments tapping away. It was within this rhythm that a family came in, a distracted yet quiet young boy in tow, clearly on a type of stay away. This table, once decided on their respective appetites, informed the same sweet human, who dropped into my knowing talented observations earlier, that the young boy is turning 5ive years old tomorrow. The adults brayed and clapped, the child looked taller and shyer at the same time. Over whelmed a bit but enjoying the attention, he smiled before shirking away into his mothers side. His excitement was met with chocolate chip pancakes, a scoop of ice cream, an interesting version of the American Happy Birthday song I’ve never heard played over the kitchen speakers. We, small in audience yet large in vibes, all patrons of said diner, sang happy birthday together. I looked up from my food and frantic journal additions to see behind me smiling glowing fresh morning faces, a deeply happy kid soon to be uncomfortably full of celebratory pancakes and before me red tulips in a slender yellow vase. Beyond the flowers two sets of red lips were set as decor on the wall, which I found subtle and delightful, matching the to the word play in my head. Two lips, tulips. The classic rectangular wall mirror reflected a scene in a play already started, common beautiful moments such as these remembered. Waiting for the bill my heart pounded. Even though I always act with courage, my body still shakes, for why, I’m actually quite shy. My chest danced as I drew a butterfly resting on a heart in a round jar my dear comrade drew and then wrote “HAPPY BIRTHDAY SF 2016” on the front. On the back I added “Happy Birthday! p.s. It’s my birthday too😉 Your Truly, the lady with the big hat at Orphan Andy’s”. On my way out I stopped and asked the sweet human to “please give this to the boy when I leave.” We paused for a moment, my hand so lightly touching his shoulder it was like a physical whisper, we just looked and smiled such love. Tomorrow I’ll be Twenty Eight.