Waffle House on the Morning of His Ordination
Waffle House on the Morning of His Ordination
Mallory Nygard
As he nears the door,
his hem catches
the head of a dandelion,
pulling it low
to kiss
the pavement.
The swaying black releases
the stem, flinging
it back to the sunlight, but
the soft puff-needles
of the weed-flower
escape
one-by-one
along the rocky path until
the lift
of the barest breeze
nestles one
in the warmth
of the good dirt.
Miss Debbie looks up
from the plates she is wiping
when the bell over the door
rings out his arrival.
It takes her two glances
to see that the tall man in black
is also the boy
who came in
all those Saturday mornings,
sweaty from his run,
hungry and smiling
from the depths of him.
He walks past
his usual spot on the counter
sandwiched between
men whose white hair
peeked out
under their John Deere caps.
He sits in a corner
booth where he can see
the whole of life
pass him by.
Here in this haven
for drunk college kids and
tired farmers and
couples not ready to say goodbye
he has – for the last three years
of seminary –
been fed.
Miss Debbie never failed
to tell him to eat up.
So here is where he wants
one more meal
before he dies
to himself
in front of everyone
he loves.
Smothered and
covered,
he’ll be vested
by his uncle
(a Franciscan
who doesn’t always
wear his habit
and encouraged him
to pick Lawrence
for confirmation)
and given
a new title,
a new name.
Miss Debbie sets down
an empty cup
in the space between his hands
and fills it
with coffee as black
as his cassock.
Almost-but-not-quite
bitter to taste.
Quiet,
but not lonely.
He smiles at her.
Later,
when she’s smoking
outside
under the golden halo
of flickering neon,
she’ll remember
that boy,
now a man.
He was happy,
she will realize.
Happy and strong and
calm in the face of a change
she hadn’t known
was in his path.
Her breath will come out
in a threadbare cloud
that drifts down
and seeps into
the soft, good dirt
at her feet.
Mallory Nygard
Poet & Librarian
Mallory is the author of Pelican and has been published in Relief Journal & Amethyst Review
Photography by Ezra Jeffrey-Comeau