Martha's Diner

The morning crowd gathers at Martha’s Diner, 

bellying up to the counter, perched on chrome stools.

Here, beneath the glow of a neon “open” sign,

I discover the totality of life and all its hidden rules.

A gentleman in Sunday best and light peppered hair,

concentrates intently on his granddaughter’s soccer story.

His face, deep and worn, shows all his life’s trials,

yet he sits, sipping coffee, unbitter, living in her glory.

A young woman in an oversized Visit Anchorage sweatshirt

swirls at her eggs, eyes locked intently on her companion’s face.

Soon, laughter erupts–as she watches with knowing eyes,

as her toast is stolen with playful grace.

They come for omelets, bacon, and momentary connection:

a woman browsing bridal magazines for the perfect dress;

her fiancé, glancing at game highlights to relieve his stress;

old friends who argue over local politics as life’s greatest gift;

the nurse, yawning over a bagel after her overnight shift; 

the man, circling “help wanted” ads, afraid to tell his wife–

Then there is me, seeking my last meal before ending my life….

I came to forget, to enjoy my final breakfast,

to disappear in pancakes before slipping away.

But witnessing this world—this simple, unfolding life—

I hesitate, lingering in the moment, and decide to stay.