Breakfast

Every Sunday morning I enjoy breakfast with some friends at the local Bob's Big Boy. I enjoy their buffet and like being able to read my Sunday paper in peace and leave it there for others. I am usually up by 8:30 and out the door by 9ish.

This Sunday, I awoke late and lazed about checking emails and Twitter and such, and wondering why even tho I knew I was late, I didn't rush to leave. I knew the friends I usually see there would be gone by the time I got there, but still I took my sweet time. Around 10:30 I finally got the urge to shower and leave.

I get to the restaurant and of course all my regulars are either leaving or have left. But I continue in to read my paper and enjoy my breakfast. After getting myself settled in, I hear behind me a family being seated and opening up their newspaper. You can hear an audible gasp and the a woman saying "That one, that's where our house was" as she points to this picture in the LA Times.

picture of the Oakridge Mobile Home Park - from L.A.Times

It was then that I knew why I was late. I surreptitiously eavesdropped on their conversation, hearing woes and worries about not only themselves but their neighbors and friends who may not have made it out.

When I left, my breakfast was much more expensive this week than others, but I hope my small little gesture, makes their burden a tiny bit easier.