The Restaurant
It had seen so much—
first dates and engagements,
birthdays, and once a birth—
a death, too—no, not the food—
here, weary people had shuffled in after work,
the weight of life like a box of books, heavy and
threaded with old ticket stubs and bookmark photos,
carried from place to place,
but set aside with the coats and umbrellas,
to be picked up again a couple hours later,
by carriers feeling refreshed and somehow stronger–
the empty dining room remembers
laughing children and impatient lovers,
whose fingers parted to lift a glass or spoon–
love, grief, joy, excitement embedded
in these walls, still scented with garlic, lemon,
and vanilla that had floated
like champagne bubbles
to burst, sharp as the chef’s knives
in the kitchen–where unplugged appliances
yet hum, remembering what was, wondering
what will come next.
A poem for my prompt on dVerse. My dad would have been 103 today, and he always took us out to eat on his birthday. I wonder about some of the restaurants we went to a long time ago.
Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings 
you describe just how every restaurant should feel.
Thank you so much, Rog! I’m pleased you think so.
Wonderfully atmospheric Merril. A restaurant has so many memories, like hotels and train stations. ☺️💕
Thank you so much, Christine. Yes, you’re right. I’m pleased that came through.
It’s funny how some buildings can have character. You bring this restaurant to life.
Thank you so much, Tanmay. Some places–houses, restaurants, or whatever seem to hold feelings. This is a place I imagined, but it could be true.
Now I want to go out to eat, you set the scene so well! 👏👏
Thank you so much, Tricia! That’s a wonderful compliment!
It’s true, I told my husband to take me out somewhere nice (not Arby’s or Subway) 😆
Hahaha. Enjoy! I hope you have a great meal. (Let me know.) 😊
May not be today! 😆
🤣
This is how a restaurant would write its memoir! Very atmospheric, Merril. 💙
And I agree with Tricia…I want to dine out too after reading this.
Thank you so much, Punam. I love that! 💙
The best restaurants hold memories of generations. We used to eat out a lot in our neighborhood when we lived in San Francisco in the late 80s. Back then, there were quite a few affordable, family-owned restaurants. They were almost like second homes, with us and the waiters on a first-name basis. All the ones we used to go to are closed now 😦
Those are the best types of restaurants, Marie. Thank you!
Marvelously recalled and perfectly presented Merril! Thanks. And thanks for hosting this cool prompt. Salute!
Thank you very much, Ron.!
Ooh, I love this, how you use the restaurant to make the past come alive again, while still acknowledging that the past is truly gone forever.
Thank you very much, Liz! 💙
I love how you expressed that.
You’re welcome, Merril–and thank you!
The sadness of an empty restaurant, so clearly expressed, clutching its memories. I was hooked by the smells “garlic, lemon, and vanilla”.
Thank you so much, Glenn. 💙
That second stanza is really interesting. It took a second read. It fits so nicely with Calvino’s ideas of Lightness and Weight that I talked about in my post.
Thank you so much, Maria! 💙
Very beautiful. I love the idea of a restaurant as a passive observer, watching everyone and everything. Very creative.
Thank you so much. I think some places absorb the emotions of people who have been there.
That was amazing — you imbibed the restaurant with all the feelings, making it a central character…lovely idea, and feels so real!
Thank you so much, Ain. It was my imagination, but it’s how I think such a place would feel.
Memories stored and well shared.
Thanks for dropping by to read mine.
Much💖love
Thank you, Gillena. 💙
Lovely poem. Reminds me of how the bar feels at 4am, when it’s been forgotten about by everyone except for the closing bartender. Thank you for sharing ❤
Thank you so much. I can imagine it would feel like that to the bartender closing up. 💙
A fitting tribute to your dad, which evoked childhood memories for me!
Thank you, Ingrid. I’m pleased I brought you some memories. (Maybe for a cadralor?) 😅
–where unplugged appliances
yet hum, remembering what was, wondering
what will come next.
Evocative lines!
Thank you so much, Reena! 😊
Wonderful, closely observed, descriptions – “lovers whose fingers parted to lift a glass or spoon–” is sheer brilliance, and “no, not the food” such fun.
Thank you so much, Derrick. I’m wowed by “sheer brilliance.” 😊
Last night, my friend told me how much she loved the “no, not the food” line, too. 🙂
That restaurant has no more customers. A symbol of a dying way of life. All the things you describe so well barely exist any more. Thank you commercial centres, MacDo and the tyranny of the barbecue!
Oh, I don’t know. . .a lot of restaurants around here closed because of the pandemic, but there are still lots of restaurants around, and people who go to them. Probably more who go to those chain places that I avoid, but there are independent places, too.
I meant the restaurant in the photo 🙂 I’m sure it’s a much healthier climate for eating out where you are.
Oh yes–that restaurant has definitely seen better days. Although someone is taking care of the flowers. 🙂
It’s for sale, never a good sign. Restaurants change hands without going on the market. It’s probably going to be turned into apartments.
The town will be looking after the flowers. They do that. Plant annuals all over the place while everything is falling apart…
I don’t know when this was taken. I wonder what did happen.
https://www.google.com/maps/@47.4454625,3.0038457,3a,64.6y,143.89h,93.33t/data=!3m6!1e1!3m4!1sLAzOyNy312tQlE9FHWu7Bw!2e0!7i16384!8i8192
Interesting. So it’s no longer for sale, but I can’t tell what it is.
It looks as though it’s selling shoes, but there’s no sign been put up so it’s maybe not a long term proposition, a short let because they haven’t been able to sell if yet.
You could probably still get it if you were interested 🙂
Oh. . .um . . .tempting, but I think not right now. 🤣
The Nièvre is the back end of beyond. You’ll find somewhere better 🙂
OK. Good to know, in case I ever want to purchase a restaurant in France (with spare change hanging around). 😏
Yes, maybe around the same time I buy a beach house at Atlantic City 🙂
That would be fun if you did! 🤣
I’d have to self ID as a millionaire first and get a bank to believe me 🙂
🤣🤣🤣
A potpourri of details, the scents embedded in the walls, the image of the sharp knives. Wonderful homage to the memory of your dad, Merril!
Thank you very much, Marian! 😊
This feels connected to your Hopper story somehow. All those ghosts… (k)
Thank you, Kerfe.
Interesting–I considered writing something based on Hopper, but that seemed like something that’s been done so often.
It fits without seeing the painting–probably because I know your accompanying narrative.
Yes, most likely.
Sounds like a great restaurant, Merril. This brings back the saying: “If these walls could talk…” A nice memory of your Father!
Thank you, Dwight. I imagine this restaurant was wonderful!
You are welcome! It looks most interesting!
Happy Heavenly Birthday to your dad!
Thank you!
I love the “weight of life like a box of books”! Thanks for hosting this facinating prompt!
–Shay
Thank you very much, and you’re welcome!
The best restaurants are not the ones with pricey foods (though they can be) or with the fancy décor (though they can be). They are the ones that evoke such wonderful memories as you have done here.
You know, I was waiting to participate in this one so I could mesh it with FF but then, obviously! changed my mind. Reading this has brought back a few memories so I am going to try to work them into a decent poem. I know, I know, I often say I will, then don’t…
Thank you so much, Dale. I imagine you must have some good restaurant stories. You can always come back to a prompt! 🙂
I really want to. I had a thought as I was reading yours. Well, plenty thoughts. I need to put it to paper before I forget!
And if you forget, something will remind you at some point. 😊
This be true 🙂
I don’t know if this one was a victim of covid like so many others, regardless it is a sad tale you tell.
Thank you. It’s an imaginary place, so I’ll leave it up to you. 🙂
I really like the idea of a restaurant’s POV. This poem is ‘weighty’ in its nostalgia of all the people who had been able to escape, if only for a little while, within its walls.
Thank you very much, Pam!
Laced through with fragrances, of lemon peel and oregano, toast crumbs and old porous pages of books, cinnamon and wistfulness. Blessings to the memory of your generous dad.
Thank you so much! 😊
Lovely poem, like a full-bodied glass of wine! A toast to your father who gave his family and children such fine remembrances. It is these fond remembrances that sustain us when we so dearly miss our beloveds. It is as if time stands still, and the memories blur the passage of time. Our hearts tell time best; there is love, and nothing more, no time piece to measure the beats, only the knowledge that love never ends.
Thank you so much, Linda! 💙💙
Merril, beautiful words. My father was a manager of several NYC restaurants and due to his long working hours we (myself and three sisters) had the good fortune to dine at many often. One of his favorites was a beautiful old inn in Essex, CT known as the “Griswold.” Though it was not one he managed, my dad loved “The Gris” as he affectionately called it. My sisters and I visited in his honor last year and toasted the wonderful father we were lucky enough to have.
Thank you very much for reading and commenting on my poem. And thank you for sharing your own memories. Believe it or not–but my husband and I actually stayed and ate at the Griswold Inn. It was many years ago before we had children. How lovely you and your sisters were able to go there and toast your dad. I always think of my mom when we go to a beautiful old restaurant called Valley Green Inn (though not an inn) along the Wissahickon Creek outside of Philadelphia.