Somewhere

The diner was tucked away off of a dirt road. A half-lit sign only brightened the DI…with the remaining ones left dark. An orange cat wandered through the gravel area, stopping periodically to look off into the dusk. A random palm tree, which had no clear reasoning for its presence, rested at the entrance. With all the oddities, there were at least twenty cars parked. A group of people stood at the door, chatting amongst themselves. Down the road, was a single pump gas station. Once entering the small city, you had to catch this place, or you would miss it in the blink of an eye.

Regan parked his car on a patch of grass alongside the gravel area. A small slither of a spot. He looked in the rearview mirror, at his backseat. Cardboard boxes full of his life’s belongings just sat there. He looked over to his passenger seat. Another box full of clothes and books. His entire life was relegated to the confines of this small green car. Regan grabbed his phone and stepped out of his car. He made his way to the diner’s entrance. One of the men, standing in the group, opened the diner’s door. “Good evening.” The man gave Regan a friendly smile. “Uh…thank you.” The man nodded and Regan made his way inside. A lot of the seats were full. An old jukebox was playing songs in the corner. Regan saw a couple of kids scrolling through its rolodex but none of the adults seemed to mind. A lady, with long hair pulled into a ponytail and three glistening necklaces on her neck, stood at the diner’s counter where the register was. “You by yourself?” She asked Regan. “Yes.” She grabbed a folded menu by her side and motioned for Regan to follow her. There was a small booth in the diner corner, near the front window. “Fried chicken and okra are the special tonight. 8.99 to be exact.” The lady pulled a notepad from her pocket and a pen from her ponytail. “My name is Vera. Can I get you something to drink?” Regan glanced at the menu. “I’ll take a Coke.” Vera nodded and walked away. Regan glanced at his phone. Twelve unread messages. Vera returned with his Coke. “I’ll take the fried chicken and okra. A side of French fries.” Regan quickly scanned the menu. “I’ll put that in for you.” Vera walked away, once again. Regan’s phone now had fifteen unread messages and ten missed calls. An older gentleman, wearing a black windbreaker and blue jeans appeared in Regan’s eyesight. “You are doing alright, son?” The man had a pair of striking blue eyes. “I’m alright.” Regan didn’t know what to make of this person and he had been having a rough few weeks. “Seems like you might be struggling.” Regan glanced at the man again. His dark hair was neatly trimmed and combed. The shoes on his feet were impeccable. The man just had an aura of distinguished about him. That made Regan think of himself. He was wearing a faded pair of jeans and an old green hooded sweatshirt. His sneakers were all scuffed and his hair was disheveled and tucked under a faded green hat. He hadn’t shaved for a week.

“Mind if I sit? Busy here tonight.” Something about this man intrigued Regan. “Sure.” Vera appeared once again. “Sorry I missed ya, Dale.” The man flashed a friendly smile. “No need to apologize. A sweet tea is fine.” Vera nodded and disappeared. “Now you know my name is Dale. May I ask what yours is?” Regan took a sip of his Coke. “Regan.” Dale nodded. Vera had returned with his sweet tea. “The usual. Sandwich and okra?” Dale laughed. “You know me too well Vera.” She smiled and walked briskly away. One of the kids by the jukebox had dropped his drink and who was his mother was imploring him to wipe it up with a fistful of napkins. “So…Regan what brings you here?” “I’m not even sure where here is.” Dale let out a tiny laugh. “You’re in a small town about fifteen minutes from the beach. Ferris.” Dale sipped his sweet tea. “A lot of people here seek a quieter life. Far from the city.” “Is that why you’re here?” Dale looked at Regan very intently. “Sometimes you just find yourself in certain places. No rhyme or reason. Just God leads you and you accept.” Now, the kids were back to picking songs on the jukebox.

“So, Regan, what brings you here?” That question again. “Well…”

Regan hadn’t left his apartment in two weeks. His refrigerator is occupied by only an onion and box of baking soda. Dishes piled high in his sink. Laundry falling on the bedroom floor. He had quit his job. A decision, his parents, had deemed irresponsible. Part of the reasoning is because Regan was working in his father’s company. Business suits. Board meetings. Three o’clock deadlines. Working as a financial advisor was a lot of people’s dream but not necessarily Regan’s. Upon coming home after his resignation, he felt stuck. He didn’t know what to do. Somehow, his best friend Lyle ended up with his apartment and Regan had packed all his belongings up. He hadn’t given Lyle or anyone really any explanations. He just said he would be gone for a while.

“So…you had one of those moments where you wanted to run from all your problems and find yourself?” Dale had taken a bite of his sandwich. Their food had arrived while Regan was telling his story. The French fries were delicious. “I suppose so.” Dale put his sandwich down. “Have you figured anything out?” Regan sighed. “Not at all. I’ve just been driving and stopping. Stopping and driving. Spending my savings.” Regan sighed once again. “I should have known better. This is real life. You don’t just find yourself like going into the grocery store and finding your favorite bag of chips.” The two men sat in silence for a while and ate their meals. Regan watched people as they left. The kids finally retreating from the jukebox and following their parents into the night. Before too long, there were only a few folks left. Regan saw Vera, at the diner counter, eating a plate of food herself. Periodically checking on the remainder customers. “I have two very important things to tell you, Regan.” Dale pushed his plate back and sat his hands on the table, clasped together. “First thing is that if you’re looking for a purpose in life. You won’t find it.” The words hit Regan like a rock. Dale noticed the defeated look on Regan’s face. “I know. Hard to hear. I learned that lesson myself. I worked in this job for over ten years. Fantastic job. I worked in a factory making car mirrors. Great benefits. I got to know many people. Off at the same time every day. But…I started having this feeling that I was missing something. Odd nagging feeling. So, I took a trip to Hawaii.” Dale paused and then continued. “It was a nice trip. Relaxing. Beautiful place. But I came back and still had that lingering feeling. No place you go to will help you find yourself. It may relax you temporarily, but it will not give you answers.” Regan felt like he was missing the punchline. “So, what did you do?” “I prayed. Let God take control.” Dale stopped. A moment passed. “I found myself here some time later. Running a little store selling homemade candles. Refurbishing items. I sell at the flea market upstate.”

“That sounds meaningful to me.” Dale looked at Regan with a serious look. “The second thing is…running does not fix anything. Just puts it off until we are forced to deal with it.” Regan drank the rest of his soda. “What do I do now?” Dale looked at Regan. His eyes with a look of warmth in them. “Go home.”