GONE

      My little girl is gone. Surely this is a good thing, but I had to sift through the details, as they varied from person to person. Doug and Dean were in the kitchen, and Cutie Gatekeeper was minding the door. There was little to do because lunch was leftover barbeque sandwiches, baked beans and potato salad. We served only 28 people; one took a sack lunch, two "required" a non-pork plate, and one who arrived quite late was given chicken salad. I took four bags of breaded okra, and Doug deep fried it. For those who loved it, there wasn't enough.

       Between putting together a dozen sack lunches and serving lunch, I asked questions. Doug said the little girl had left. Dean said she'd gone to live with her grandmother (and I assumed the man in the wheelchair). But Gatekeeper had the real scoop: the child is in another town now, staying with an uncle and under the watchful eye of DSS. So… my fears ran from horror to sadness to relief. At least, sometimes DSS gets it right. It's out of our hands, isn't it?

       The child's grandfather was not at lunch, but still resides at the shelter. I didn't see him. In fact, none of the "really interesting" people was there. Compared to last Sunday's crowd, the place was nearly deserted today.

       The little boy and the baby still live there, but were not at lunch. I don't like to see children living at a shelter, but I surely miss them when they aren't around. Their very presence brings a "family" atmosphere to the lunchroom.

       By the time I left, Doug had completed dinner prep and was planning to do as little as possible this afternoon. Maybe Dean will take a break too. They both spent the morning running on all cylinders, as if there were a train to catch.

       I picked both their brains about Mr. Huggy, but they knew nothing. The Hugs keeps a very low profile with the kitchen these days, and the cooks like it that way.

       Until next time—be well.