Finding the Stream Under a Full Moon
It was a very small but classic hotel off a main street in a not-so-well-known town, which strived back in the 1930's to grow into a city with maybe a limestone courthouse two stories high with a spire rising another story above that. A city with tree lined streets downtown with interesting mom & pop businesses that everyone in the city enjoyed going into and saying hello to the help even if they didn't need anything that day. A city with a really sweet public library with a really sweet lady with a really sweet attitude that always was willing to help you find the book you wanted to read under a big shade tree in the public park that had a perfect little duck pond and the occasional woodpecker in the spring migrating thru who stopped in the park to find some bugs in the huge oak tree that shaded you from the afternoon sun that burned off any clouds that were hanging around that morning. Over there... yeah, right there next to the swings that had been there so long they squeaked when swung upon were some little kids playing hide-n-seek from the shortest girl in their group... their giggles giving away their hiding places but they were too happy to care. I had hoped the hotel would have a room on the top floor which was four stories above the street and the room would be facing east so I could watch main street and the foot traffic that enjoyed being there. Most of the cars were parked very carefully and neatly along the curbs and it was rare you'd ever hear a honk from any of them.
The smell of time passed was well-established in the small but efficient lobby and behind the check-in desk was a spry old man with a bald pallet and a big mustache with just as big a smile that invited me into the hotel with open arms. This was the Open Arms Hotel & Restaurant which housed in it's many years of existence absolutely nobody of historical importance.
I checked in and yes, four rooms were available on the fourth floor, two facing east towards main street so I could watch the foot traffic. The choice was mine. I chose room #208. It sounded like a good number despite the oddity of it being on the fourth floor.
There was no elevator in the Open Arms Hotel & Restaurant, but rumor was when the town grew into the city of it's dreams, a really fancy, brass-accented elevator was going to be installed to make it easier for all the historical people that would have stopped in overnight could easily go up to the rooms of their choice. They wouldn't have been disappointed in the least, at least in this person's opinion - the sheets were clean and smelled as fresh as a spring morning in the piney woods. The mattress was a double so I could sleep with my dreams in delightful comfort. Two pillows per side were plumped up and inviting making reading in bed relaxing before drifting off to sleep ... but it was too early for that. I had things I wanted to do.
The little bathroom was utilitarian with perfectly white subway tiling on both the walls and the floor. A pedestal sink amazingly looked like the original which was now over 70 years old. I turned the water on, both C & H, to make sure they operated as well as they looked. They did and I smiled. My reflection in the mirror above the white porcelain sink startled me somewhat as I thought I had seen a stranger in that mirror. I looked again and saw myself. I must be tired, I thought but I had things I wanted to do. Maybe a quick shower would revive me. There was a perfectly shiny piece of plumbing that came straight up from behind the claw-footed bathtub and curled over and down, entering a round shower head. That was enough to convince me that, indeed, a shower would be wonderfully refreshing. I prepared myself for a quick showering and turned on the waters feeling with my outstretched right hand for the perfect body temperature that would cleanse and refresh.
After showering and putting on a fresh set of clothes I went downstairs to ask about the Open Arms Restaurant and was greatly disappointed by the desk clerk who had checked me in. The Open Arms Restaurant had been closed for over 40 years.
"Could I look inside and see what it looked like?" I asked the desk clerk.
"Sure could... if I had the key" was his reply along with his big smile.
"Where could a guest of yours find something to eat in this town?"
"Well, there's only one place within walking distance from here and that's three blocks south then turn left on Cicadia, go up four buildings and you'll see Hambone's Eatery. They specialize in the town's favorite food - ham bone stew with rice on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays and with black beans the rest of the week 'cept Sunday when they close all day.
"I guess I'm outta luck then... today is Sunday..." my voice trailing off...
"Afraid so mister. You might have to drive to find somethin' to eat cause there ain't nothin' around here open to feed ya. Sorry..."
"Are there any streams around here within walking distance?"
"Streams? Yep... there's one stream over in the park... it feeds the duck pond."
"It's not very far from here is it?"
"Nah... just a couple of blocks that away," pointing to the west.... "You can't miss it... there's a big old oak tree that towers over all the other trees."
I was hoping the town park was what I had imagined it to be. I walked quickly in the direction of the park, my hunger nearly forgotten. I don't really know why I was so anxious to see this park other than wanting to see the stream on this beautiful Sunday afternoon.
I spotted the tall oak tree towering over all other trees and walked in its direction. I could see the pond so I knew the stream had to be around the area. I walked around the edge of the duck pond and counted 17 ducks floating around on it before I spotted the stream.
Here it was Sunday and there it is - the stream. I now had myself a Sunday Stream that probably was the most curious Stream I had ever had, but I wasn't about to count them all and test that theory. No sirree, I am going to sit right down on the bank of the stream and just let my thoughts flow without any interference at all. I really need that today... a stream that simply washes over me with non-attachment. Care to join me?
Ahhh....
cecil
6.07.09
sure!
