Thirty Years Ago

Thirty years ago I got a phone call in the night waking me up. My boyfriend had called from North Carolina to tell me that John Lennon had been shot.

I lived on Jewett Street, on Smith Hill in Providence. I got up at four every morning and walked to work in the dark. I was a waitress at Pete's Place, a diner on Smith Street. I had noticed that the regular customers' faces looked like what they ate every morning, which was my secret to remembering their orders. Mr Cheerios had a round face, with rough pasty skin and a dark nose. Ms Dry Italian Toast on the Side had high cheekbones, lightly flushed. The Sunny Side Up Couple arrived daily, parking their pale blue Volkswagen bug out front, then sitting opposite each other at the middle table, laughing and smiling.