Photo of Night the Restaurant Burned
That seems like such a long time ago.
Today the restaurant's foundation is covered in ruins. . . a bottle here, a glass there, chairs stacked along the riverbank, garbage cans behind a screen, large timbers down the hill, and the naked concrete block foundation. The smell of smoke permeates the air two months after the restaurant burned.
I don't know what happened to the restaurant; I only know that its destruction initially ripped away my cheerful memories of family, place, and security.
Initially.
Initially, I thought of the pain of the family that lost their livelihood, the community that lost its meeting place, and scores of people like me who lost cherished memories. As I stood on the riverbank and tried to envision the restaurant as it once was, however, three other images captured my attention.
I saw daffodils blooming at river's edge.
I saw a bright yellow chair sticking out among the ruins.
And, finally, I saw the tattered American flag flying beside the restaurant's remains. In the poor economy we have endured the last few years, it's hard not to see the flag as a metaphor of our rough times. Just as the cherished flag continues flying despite its holes and tears, I choose to believe that America will also prevail.

Restaurant Website
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