I like big and small brunches. I like the options abound at brunch buffets, even though they may be a bit intimidating. Nothing is worse for a Libra than making a choice between breakfast food and lunch, especially when she simultaneously wants waffles and everything on the Mediterranean Platter. I like that I have the choice of orange juice and coffee and alcohol. Every day is different, every choice depends on my mood, and I try to follow my instincts and go with the flow. I appreciate the pink, freshcut roses that adorn every table, soft jazz music whether recorded or live, and the white hat chefs making omelettes or cutting pork, turkey, and prime rib. This is not a usual occurrence, these big brunches, but a once in a while thing. I like that fresh home-from-church feeling, dressed up with hair and make up done, finally winning the waged battle with pantyhose, having conquered it – that is, until it needs to be taken off again. I miss cool spring breezes and warm sun rays and how that particularly feels by the water, hearing the waves lapping and the honking of a boat in the distance.

Small brunches with close friends where the table is so small, our needs, knees slightly touch. Perhaps a day-old yellow daisy sits between us on the table. Cloth napkins, rough or perhaps they’re paper pre-rolled with metal utensils. The clinking of glasses of gentlemen bussing the tables, the din of voices talking, perhaps one loud gaffaw gets out above it – Perhaps it’s mine. Laughter, normalcy, the sound of cutlery on plates. The promise of eggs Benedict or a juicy burger with a sesame seed bun that comes with it’s own steak knife due to it’s sheer size. Conversation is intimate and exists only within the confines of a table and is less like a shopping ordeal at a bigger, fancier venue. Perhaps a birthday has passed and gifts have been exchanged. The hour is later, but feels early. Coffee is poured from steaming pots in thick ceramic mugs where I refused, refuse cream and sugar, but am too quiet and less fussy to tell them to not bring it out. The feeling of fullness and contentment leaving, the only antidote for this rest of the day is peppermint tea and a nap. And introvert like me, these excursions take a toll. And I need to recharge, perhaps with video games. Something mildly mindless. I wage my war with pantyhose again at the undress and take them off as daintily as I can. Turning them from inside out to outside in and gently placing them in my hamper. Checking my dress for stains.

Author: Roe

she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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