Ever After

Yes, the price was alluring…but, on the other hand, I wasn’t impressed. The selection that was offered left me contemplating about walking out the door. It wasn’t terrible food, but it wasn’t what I had been hoping for.

The commercials on TV had shown succulent cuts of protien laden steaks, grilled to Nirvanian perfection, accompanied by golden skinned baked fish, or falling-off-the-bone-tender chicken breast. Surrounding these regal entrees were the most incredibly luscious vegetables, more varieties than at the local farmer’s market. The desserts that floated across the television screen were down right irresistible and the waitresses were wide-eyed, flower fresh maidens, ready to cator to the whims of each customer’s dining needs. I was extremely hungry when I saw the commercial, so my seduction was as quick as the wave of a magic wand. With my growling stomach as my guide, I ventured to this enchanted land that the commercial had promised was waiting for me. I admit it…I bought into the Fairy Tale.

Of course, we are supposed to learn as we grow into adulthood that Fairy Tales are mirages. They are not true. They are only fantasies to keep us occupied as children until we reach the age of enlightenment where we realize that too soon in life the clock strikes midnight, signaling the end of the Ball, and we are left standing in the pumkin patch, listening to the mice who cry from the memory of being great and powerful steeds.

Strange thoughts to entertain as I’m moving down the cafeteria line, don’t you think? Dissapointed at the leathery cuts of meat. Dissapointed at the water soaked vegetables. No surprise there. I’ve been dissapointed in a lot of things lately.

I grumble to myself and go find a table next to a window.

At least the sun is shining. That’s not a bad thing. And the waitress keeps my tea glass full without me having to ask. It’s funny, every time that she comes by she pats me on the shoulder and offers me this infectious smile that I cannot help but to return. And honestly, this pitiful looking steak actually tastes pretty good. I start to relax a bit. I feel the tension ease off of my shoulders and my mind lightens upward a few levels.

The dining area is one large room. Pretty big place. I guess one could compare it to a grand ballroom. The music that is swimming around the diners could be considered to be…if one listened close enough…it could be considered a waltz. You know, like the kind that they play in those Fairy Tale movies. But, that’s ridiculous. Everyone over the age of twelve, knows that Fairy Tales are not true.

Well, nearly everyone. A loud squeal attracted my attention to the right of me. An elderly couple and a blonde headed girl, around six years old, were finishing their meal. The man was dressed in overalls and farm boots. His wife wore a lilac colored cotton dress. The little girl wore a ponytail and her own set of overalls to match the man’s. Her shoes were red Keds.

The squealling erupted again as the old man rolled a pea across the table at the young girl. She laughed and dodged in her chair as the pea barely missed her and bounced to the floor. The wife scolded her husband, then the girl, but it was a light-hearted effort. Her face revealed that she was used to this kind of behavior. Inwardly, she was smiling. The wife stood and then headed for the register. One final roll of a pea, one final dodge and squeal, then the old man and the child followed.

At the register the girl spotted the candy in the display and immediately started begging. The wife shook her head no. Without another word, the girl looked into the old man’s eyes. He was strong for a couple of seconds, then he buckled. He reached for his wallet and shrugged at his wife. The wife sighed and shrugged in return. The little girl beamed "Thanks Gran’pa!"

The old man winked back.

I watched through the window as the three of them made their way to a mud-caked pickup truck. After he opened the door for his wife, the farmer walked to the driver’s side with the girl. The bright sunlight bounced off of her blonde ponytail as she skipped along, her hand resting gently in the safety of her granddad’s weathered, but soft hand.

I guess it’s just me, but it wasn’t hard to imagine that the little girl felt like a princess being lifted into a grand coach. Perhaps not as pretty as the coaches in the movies, but magical just the same.

You know what? I’ve changed my mind. Maybe I still do believe in Fairy Tales. At least some of the time. And I guess that as long as I can believe in happy endings every once in a while, then I’m not doing so bad after all. And maybe, with a little luck, I’ll have a few nore waltzes in my life before the clock strikes midnight.

Take care.