The Arrival

We left at the crack of dawn, packing the car the night before so that we wouldn’t have so much to think about with fuzzy brains. For breakfast, I tried to thaw English muffins in the oven set to 350 degrees. Muffins only require a knife dipped in butter, and no bowl or spoon. The muffins weren’t bad; enough to tide us over until we arrived 3 hours later at this little spot in the town about 20 minutes from our lake house.

We drove in rain, and we arrived in rain. The kind of rain that is thick and white and reminds you of snow.

This in an incredible deli; although you have to watch the sweet ladies who make your sandwiches like hawks; no matter how many times you say, “He wants salami and ham ONLY… no cheese, no lettuce,” they load it up with turkey or pickles or something else he didn’t expect. When you get a sandwich with bacon, and you want your sandwich toasted, they don’t think to take off the bacon, as it’s already cooked; so the bacon gets a little too crispy. Despite all of this, I still say this is a great restaurant, and I’m not sure why.

We arrived at 10:15. Fifteen minutes too late for breakfast, and the town’s morning coffee drinkers, and too early to be a part of the lunch crowd. We were smack in the middle of that glowy transition period when the day is just beginning to lose its naiveté, when it thinks it can accomplish the world today, while at the same time, quietly grateful this is just another day, like so many others.

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