What was supposed to be a celebration of our 50th anniversary turned into a life-or-death situation at a dinner. My late husband’s heartfelt message and an unexpected act of heroism were the result of the courageous waitress’s urgent command to kneel. Clara is my name, and I am a grandmother who is 78 years old.
Brian, my late husband, and I celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary today. I still do it in his memory because we had a custom of celebrating at a nice restaurant. The restaurant was full to capacity.
As I made my way to the table, I started to feel a little overwhelmed. I had a hard time finding my way through the crowd, the noise, and the crowded waitstaff. Due to the effort and emotions that this day always brings, my heart pounded.
I was greeted by the familiar aroma of delectable food as I entered the establishment. The conversation hum and the soft clinking of cutlery filled the air. Just as Brian and I had always liked it, the lighting was warm and dim.
I finally reached my preferred window-side table. I sat down and exhaled deeply. Without Brian seated across from me, the chair felt cold and foreign.
He was almost there, his eyes crinkling at the corners, smiling at me. I wished myself a happy anniversary by whispering, “Love. ” I noticed couples and families enjoying their meals as I glanced around.
It brought to mind all of the birthdays Brian and I had celebrated here. We would sit across from each other at the table and hold hands as we laughed and made new memories. The best days of my life were those.
My anticipation for the meal began to grow. Despite the fact that I already knew what I wanted, I picked up the menu and scanned it. We always chose the day’s special treat.
“Why change a good thing? ” Brian would make fun of it. A young woman with a kind smile came over to serve.
Ma’am, welcome. I’m ready to place an order. I smiled at her back, “Yes, I’ll have the special, please.
” She gave me a nod, then left to take my order. My heart broke when she brought my food back. I couldn’t quite make out what was smeared on the plate, which was filthy.
I asked politely, “Excuse me, could you please replace this plate? ” It lacks cleanliness. ” Of course, ma’am,” she replied, her tone a little agitated.
I’ll be back quickly. She hurriedly returned to the kitchen after taking the plate. The small disappointment dampened my excitement as I waited there.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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