Journal Entry – Anniversary Restaurant

A sidelight to this event is that my wonderful daughter planned it. I was a poor father. She is not a writer, but no words could better describe her forgiveness and the thoughtfulness here. It touched Tim very deeply when this daughter, no longer a little girl, thought enough of her parents to plan this event.

It is our anniversary. What a choice day it has been. I remember several years ago when we went to a romantic little dinner. We actually did it for several years. It was an antique shop with a small dining room where we were almost alone. I felt we could never have a more romantic setting than at “Kristy’s Kitchen.”

I was wrong.

Tonight we went to another quaint new little restaurant. It was called “AFC Dining. It was only opened for one night. It opened especially for Vivian and me. It was our wedding anniversary.

We knocked on the door and were greeted by the host. 

“We have reservations,” said Vivian.

“Let me check,” he said, “Name please?”

“Tim Prince.”

“Yes, we have your reservations. My name is Alex. Follow me please.”

We were alone in a small oblong room. It had been curtained off from the rest of the room. On the other side of the cloth was a lamp and the light filtered through just enough to make out the small round table containing two long stemmed wine goblets and two long candles. Alex who seated us was handsome and neat in appearance and his voice was warm and efficient. 

“May I light the candle of your love my lady,”  as he lit the pink candle to my left. It was not really a question for he was lighting it without an answer.

Tears of thankful joy filled my eyes. The emotion also effected my ears for I did not hear his words again until he turned to me and lit the blue candle saying, “For you my Lord.”

The special flickering of the candles illuminated the neatly folded napkins and the white place mats on which lay the full service table setting of flatware. Between the candles and the open window was an ice bucket in which lay an unopened bottle of nonalcoholic white sparkling grape juice. Our waitress had purchased it especially for this our special night in this wonderful little restaurant that will probably never have any other patrons. Between the window and the ice is a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

The waitress entered after Alex had left. Her name was Carmella. She asked for our order. The beautiful though plump young waitress was wearing a cute towel apron. She was very efficient and businesslike.

“The special of the house for tonight is roast turkey,.” Said Carmella.

“We will take that,” I said.

It also included a side salad with ranch dressing, a relish tray, and a special desert called “minty cloud delight.” We also found out later it included a special automobile service.

“Can Alex get your drink opened,” Carmella said as she looked at the unopened wine.

“Yes that would be great.”  Tim said.

Vivian told the waitress of an item we had brought with us and left in the car. She took Vivian’s keys and went to get it. We would not see those keys until after we had returned home later that evening.

The host stepped in. Alex fumbled with the foil as if he’d had very little experience. We were not surprised. He then filled each glass with the bubbling liquid.

The salads were brought in next. They were nice, crisp and even included freshly picked cherry tomatoes. They also had croutons. We could also use a tray of freshly sliced cucumbers and tomatoes.

When we had finished the salads, the salad plates were removed.

Next the main course was laid before us. The taste buds of both of us would be delighted as we ate. The turkey had been basted to perfection. The Green beans we knew were freshly processed from a local garden. The potatoes, a personal favorite, were mashed to a fluffy consistency. We were given a small pitcher containing more gravy. Vivian has spoiled me and I am hard to please when it comes to gravy. I usually steer away from restaurant gravy, but it was superb. The cook must have had a good teacher. She knew exactly how I liked my favorite part of a meal.

I gazed across the table to see the flickering  reflection of the candles in the glasses of the woman I had fallen in love with the first time I met her over forty years ago. The lacy white blouse which was all I could see above the table reminded me of her wedding dress 33 years ago.

I moved the relish tray as I said, “I want to hold your tender hand, Vivian.

I moved the relish tray and reached across the table and her hand met mine half way. 

Silently we just looked at each other as her right hand squeezed my left. I gently squeezed back. This sharing lasted several precious moments.

After my hand returned to my lap and I had replaced the relish tray we were asked if we would like seconds. I ordered a small helping of green beans.

Our deserts were brought in next and again I realized the cook knew firsthand what I liked. The round scoop of ice cream was mint chocolate chip.

“Wow,” exclaimed my taste buds.

 Next to the ice cream was a piece of chocolate cake. I was made from scratch.  The baker’s frosting looked like fluffy white clouds and was partly the reason for the special name. As my tongue savored the texture of it, my thoughts reached toward heaven. How I prayed that I would be worthy to join those present this night in God’s eternity.

“This is heavenly,” my wife said dreamily. This caused me to wonder if her thoughts were not on heavenly reunion as mine was.

“The icing was so creamy and light,” was my addition.

Vivian asked Alex if we could have the cook come in so we could give her a round of applause.

He said, “Felysha is shy but I will try.”

A moment later I was startled out of my fantasy world that was really reality. Vivian began to clap. Beside me appeared the person whose idea had sparked and created this spiritual evening of sharing and enriched family ties. I too began applauding the cook. Felysha had a huge smile on her face.

“Everything was perfect,” was Vivian’s input.

I followed with, “the gravy was so rich and delightful”

As they left Carmella, the waitress, was heard to say, “The cook, is turning red.”

The warm feeling in my heart though, I am sure would match the hue of Felysha’s face.

Then our check was brought to us. This is what it said: