The Diner off the Freeway

Brandon Figliolino

April 20, 2018

The Diner off the Freeway

It reminds me of her

That diner just off the freeway

It’s the one with the trapezoidal sign that shines orange and bright

A faux sun, if I’ve ever seen one.

That sign, and the squat building adjacent to it

Draw motorists in for skillet breakfasts, homemade pie,

And a bit of respite.

The food is mediocre and cheap,

The décor tries a bit too hard to be “hip” and “coo” with its overuse of emojis and abbreviations.

Nevertheless, every time I pass that building and its towering sign, I smile and give it a nod because

I love it. 

We’d dine there together, in days long since passed

Talking about life, love, and struggles

She full of compassion,

Listened with intent to my trivial plights

And offered me wisdom over Earl Grey, runny eggs, and overcooked potatoes.

Many times, our breakfasts were frequent and scheduled,

But soon, they showed up less and less on the calendar

Until they didn’t show up at all.

It’s been nearly five years, and I have not dined there since.

All these years have passed, but that diner still reminds me of her,

Evokes powerful memories of

Our chats

Our hopes

Our dreams

Her smile

Her laugh

Her love for me.

The diner will soon be gone.

The sign that has stood tall for years,

Beckoning drivers to exit right for biscuits and gravy,

Has been removed,

And the squat diner’s interior scraped.

“COMING SOON: SOMETHING NEW” is plastered on the windows.

Perhaps, in its reincarnated life it will be something that doesn’t try so hard.

It is what it is.

A building means nothing to me,

Its demise is unfortunate, but not inevitable.

It’s the experiences inside those walls that matter

And I shall continue to keep them close.

Regardless of whether the walls remain upright and strong for years to come,

Or are knocked back down into dust,

Returning to the earth from which it came,

I know that buildings will never survive as long as love.