|
Cinnamon Buns "God could not be everywhere and therefore
he made mothers."
It was late afternoon when we arrived in Swan Lake. The only place open for miles around was a drive-in. But before Sharon would eat there she had me check the washrooms. Luckily, they were spotless (I wasn't in the mood for baking potatoes). I reported my findings to the waiting outside Sharon. She ventured in and we sat at an old-fashioned booth. After inhaling a couple of delicious gooey pizzas, I sauntered to the till and paid. "Do you suppose we could camp behind your restaurant for the night?" I casually inquired. "We're on bikes; we're really quiet, and we'll leave early in the morning." "Sure," the fellow answered. "Plenty of room." He extended a big hand, and with a hearty handshake introduced himself as Mr Van Cauwenberghe. "Adeline," he called. "Come here a moment. I have someone for you to meet." Mrs Van Cauwenberghe was even more hospitable than her husband. "Would you like a shower?" she immediately asked. I snapped up her fine offer. She showed us around back. Opening a door to her son Mike's living quarters, she toured us to the bathroom. "Use as much of the soap and shampoo as you like!" Much later, our skin scrubbed shining pink, Sharon and I sat at a picnic table behind the restaurant writing postcards. Feeling homesick for family back home, we were missing them as much as we imagined them missing us. Adeline appeared, breaking our melancholy. "Come in for a bedtime snack," she invited warmly. We entered the restaurant. Adeline motioned us to a table marked reserved. She brought over tall glasses of cold milk. Mr Van Cauwenberghe set two plates of steaming cinnamon buns in front of us. I was shocked. It wasn't like me to miss something like that. "I - I didn't see cinnamon buns on the menu," I stammered. "Oh, they're not," Adeline said, smiling. "We make them once a week, special for family." How about that? Sharon and I grinned. Warmness spread through our beings. A couple of hours earlier we had merely been anonymous smelly strangers. Now these kind folks had adopted us as part of their family. Savouring the sticky treats, we realized even though we were a thousand miles from home, no one was ever truly far from home when mothers were around. |
Book Info
