Cold Peaches

 Dinner at The Barn was a perfect suggestion last Friday, September 11.  Gary and I had checked in at the Hilton Garden Inn in Wooster, then drove to Smuckers to pick up some SF jelly before they closed.  On the drive back we talked about what we planned to do with the limited time we would be in town, and dinner at The Barn was something we wanted to do.

It was still early, not really a 'dinner rush' time, so we cut through the country and found outselves in the parking lot.   We were seated in the main dining room and noticed the 'socially distant' tables (about half of the usual tables had disappeared) and the changes in the Salad Wagon.

After ordering our iced tea (me) and Diet Coke (Gary), we both selected the mushroom steak (glorified hamburger patty with a mushroom sauce), baked potato for me and potato wedges for him, and green beans.  He asked to add a cup of chili.  Under usual circumstances we would have gone with the Salad Wagon, soup bar, and bread bar, but all of that had changed.  Two servers were 'manning' one side of the wagon, preparing the plates with diners' selections, ladling cups of soup, and cutting slices of bread.

When the waitress asked me if I wanted to add a cup of soup or a small salad plate, I declined, but I asked her one thing.  I asked if I could have a bowl of cold sliced peaches. When she looked surprised, I explained.

Dad liked going to The Barn. In fact, Mom and Dad probably dined there at least once a week before Dad became sick.  At one point Mom declared that Dad didn't like going to The Barn because of all of the duck poop on the sidewalks, but I never heard him complain about that.  He always liked the Salad Wagon, especially the cold peaches.  At the end of the meal he would meander back to the Wagon and return with a big bowl of cold peaches, sliding around in syrup, with a big smile on his face.  He enjoyed each and every bite.

I have great memories of going to The Barn, mainly with the girls when they were younger.  Dad would take their hands and lead them to the pond so they could see the ducks and if they were lucky, they would get to feed them.  Sometimes Mom and I would sit on one of the swings and watch. Other times we would walk over to Buchanan Place, a gift shop in the house on the property, or to The Oak Cupboard for some ice cream or to pick up some of the bagged pantry items.

On Spring Break 2009 Gary and I spent most of the week in Wooster. One day we drove Mom and Dad "over home" so Dad could see the Little Brown House on 62, drive around Westville Lakes, stop at the Community Center in Damascus, drive through the cemeteries in Damascus and Sebring, reminisce about The Farm as we noticed the missing trees and the unpainted, unkempt house, and feel some pride as he stood looking at the bricks of his father, his uncle, his two brothers, and his own in the Veterans Walk in Sebring.  After we stopped to visit Aunt Mildred, his older sister in the nursing home, we returned to Wooster with a stop at The Barn for dinner. His request.  (insert a huff from Mom when he requested that particular spot for dinner).  He enjoyed a bowl of cold peaches, smacked his lips, and smiled while dabbing at the juice dripping on his chin.  After we returned to the house that evening, he squeezed my shoulder and said "B, thank you for today.  I really enjoyed it.  It was the BEST day I have had in a long time." I will never forget that.  Side note---It was the last time he was 'over home' and the last time he ate at The Barn.

During the last 10 years and the many times we have visited The Barn, either with the kids or with Greta, with the four friends of Mom and Dad's that we treated to dinner before the auction, or during the two funeral dinners, we have always enjoyed those peaches and mentioned Dad in the process.  

So I explained to our waitress why I wanted a bowl of peaches.  Just that.  Nothing else. Well, nothing other than my dinner that I had already ordered.  She smiled.  She said "It sounds like there is something sentimental going on here. I understand."

At the end of our meal, as we were sitting there talking about how Matt and Blaine enjoyed the restaurant, how the funeral dinners for both Mom and Dad were off to the side in the area behind the Salad Wagon, how the kids loved playing with the tractor off the lobby, our waitress appeared again and placed a very large bowl of peaches in front of me---with two spoons.  She said she didn't know if I wanted to share, but just in case.....

I looked at the bowl and tears filled my eyes.  I could just see Dad returning to the table with a bowl of similar size filled with those slick bright orange colored slices, slipping around in the juice. Yum!

And when I bit into the first section that I cut off---SO cold!  The waitress must have filled the bowl when she first returned to the kitchen , then placed the bowl in the fridge until I was ready for them.  I did offer to share with Gary and he did eat part of one slice, but he let me enjoy every single bite of those delicious slices.

When I finished and the waitress returned, she was waiting for a verdict.  They were perfect.  They tasted wonderful.  It was just what I needed. 

She came around the table and gave me a hug.  She explained that she totally understood, and that she had lost her mother several years ago and there were some things......

Cold peaches.  Last Friday I continued the tradition. I ate those cold peaches just for him.  

And they were delicious.  

I love you, Dad.