Missing Don's Oasis

For as long as I remember, meeting friends to eat at Don's Oasis was the go to place. Don, the owner/chef, made everyone feel welcome. He wore a tall white chef's hat and matching jacket, frequently ran the cash register so he could talk a bit to his customer friends. Long divorced, his home was the restaurant and customers became a kind of family.

When family visited it was tradition to have breakfast at Don's. His oatmeal was slow cooked in milk, served on a small platter with a container of brown sugar, another container of raisins, and a small pitcher of half and half. His omelets were oozing cheese and whatever extras we ordered. Perfect bacon, large ham slices or sausage in patties or links.  

My buddy, Helen and I both widowed found the Oasis a welcoming and cozy place when we were having sad days. Don understood and always provided beautiful compliments when I paid my bill. Sometimes he held my hand and told me things to lift my morale.

Don reached 83 and began to fail. Soon he retired and the Oasis was run by his son, then sold, remodeled, burned and never opened again. It stands at the North entrance to town, looking the same, but empty. Don passed away before the Oasis was sold. 

On lonely evenings Helen and I take drives, talking about what each of us had done that day and once in a while I say "this is the kind of day we would have gone to Don's Oasis for comfort".