The sun was sliding into the western horizon as I maneuvered my perfectly restored ’59 Stingray onto the crunching gravel. I slowed vigilantly to avoid throwing pebbles from the tires and chipping the sea-foam green paint. It had been a strenuous day of traveling from my hometown to, well, wherever here is.
The sun reflected off the filmy window of a small café and momentarily blinded me. I maneuvered the chrome-trimmed roadster into a slim parking space and stopped. My body reverberated with the memory of the vibrations of the road. It was only now that I took a deep breath and paused to study my immediate surroundings.
The vehicle door clicked open and I was surprised to find that the air was nippy and laden with a mist that hovered in the tree-lined creek fringe. A thin layer of evening frost was beginning to form over the damp rocks and puddles in the drive-way. I wanted to dash indoors to a roaring fire and a steaming cup of cocoa.
The diner was nothing special to look at. It was a flat-roofed, squat, square building that covered roughly a one thousand square foot area. Remnants of a flowerbed lined the front of the modest structure. The flowers were long dead from the cool autumn air that had replaced the warm summer breezes that they loved so much. Frozen, hanging low and stiff, the leaf points made miniature rainbow-like arcs against the faded paint. The trim color around the door looked as if it had been neglected for twenty years. It was peeling in jagged slivers that shuddered when the air stirred. The weather beaten wood was faded from seasons of sweltering sun and frigid wind.
The only distinct sound, other than the other cars blindly speeding past the establishment, was that of a trickling brook somewhere behind the humble shack. Misty wisps of fog hovered in the air above the ambling stream like dancing apparitions.
In the murky door window a randomly blinking and buzzing neon sign says, “Come one, Come All, Always Open, All the Time!” It beckoned me from the comfort of my plush vehicle. I stretched lazily and took in a breath of the refreshing cool air and began to walk toward the cozy looking refuge.
As I stepped onto the sidewalk, I sensed something curious about the atmosphere of this café from the parking lot only five feet away. My pulse quickened and my blood thinned. I tugged on the door handle and pulled it open. As I stepped inside I smelled a heavenly scent and inhaled deeply. I closed my eyes to let the memory burn into my senses. It smelled like fresh baked bread, but even fresher. I was transported to a time in my life when I felt secure and loved without any doubts.
Before I could exhale, someone walking by shook my hand. It wasn’t a flimsy fish grab, but a real ‘boy-are-we-glad-to-see-you! Sit-yourself-down-and-enjoy-your-stay!’ handshake.
From across the room someone yelled to me. They called me ‘friend’ and said, “Here’s your table waiting here!” I was momentarily shocked that they would have a table set and waiting for me. ME!? As I tentatively took my place, an old familiar face said, “Sit on down and welcome to the ‘Last Chance Café’!”
I glanced at my watch to check the time. I knew I hadn’t been in the café but one minute, yet it felt as though I had been there all my life. I had never been much of one to follow parallel time lines, but I recognized that there was something very different about the way time moved in the café. It was if I were floating on the very edge of time. What a thrill! Suddenly, it didn’t matter what time it was. I sat back and drank in the sweet release from the dictates of societal rules. I didn’t HAVE to be anywhere! Oh, the taste of freedom from schedule pressures was intoxicating!
As I sat there, I noticed that more people were coming in the diner door. I began to wonder how all these people would fit into this tiny café. But miraculously, they all came in and became part of the atmosphere. It was as though they all belonged there. Still, more people came and yet no one was turned away. I leaned back in my chair, closed my eyes and thought, “This could only happen here, at this mysterious ‘Last Chance Café’.
The man who had spoken to me a few minutes before put his hand on my shoulder in a way that was gentle, yet full of power. I never wanted him to remove it. Somehow, just this simple touch was a comfort to my very soul. He leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Look around, this is a holy place”. A shiver shot up my spine.
I opened my eyes and beheld, as if for the first time, family and friends everywhere! In a flash, happy memories flooded through my mind. The visions of the past swept over me as we laughed and cried in each other’s arms. I knew that I had arrived at everywhere I had ever wanted to be. I was completely satisfied and fulfilled here in this humble café. I never wanted to leave this rapturous place! I felt as though I could spend forever here. I felt no shame as tears of joy streamed down my face without hesitation or pause.
All this time the man with this all-consuming presence continued to stand by me. I was acutely aware of him. I was enjoying the presence of my friends and family immensely, but his quiet strength seemed to press against me. I felt urgency within my self to give my attention to him, too. I felt slightly divided.
When at last I did turn to face the man, smiling he said, “For two thousand years, I’ve been waiting here for you to come and join me at the ‘Last Chance Café’. It’s been waiting here, throughout all the years, this heaven made for you.”
Could it be true? Heaven is in his tatty diner? No, it was far more than that. It was my destiny. I was in the midst of the relationship I had longed for all my life. I had finally arrived. I wept openly as all the desires of my heart were met in the company of this man. Leaning heavily on his shoulder, his arms supported my relief-wracked body. The fight, the battle, the tension of all my years was gone.
“Yes, my darling. Welcome home. Well done.”
(inspired by the song, Last Chance Cafe, by Allies)
