Memory Lane

The rain had washed the air so clear, it was a joy to breathe in. The sky was clear blue, not a trace of clouds was left. Emmy looked at the abundance of green colors that the trees, bushes, ferns, and mosses offered her. She slowly followed the small pathway through the woods, like she had done for years. Very few things invigorated her like the walk from her father’s house to the lake in the village forest. 

On sunny days she took books with her so she could sit on the small, rickety pier and read, surrounded only by the sounds of the lake.This would not work today, because the pier would be wet and slippery, and as much as Emmy liked the lake, she didn’t want to end up in it.

She walked slowly on, listening to the birds, enjoying the earthy smell, and noticing the softness of the ground, sinking in a little now and then. The sun broke ever so slightly through the trees now and the very air seemed alive.

She passed by the fork that led to the shooting range. The warning sign to stay away was missing, but Emmy was sure this was the way up to it. She wondered if anyone was out today, shooting. She hadn’t heard anything yet that would disturb the harmony of the woods. Usually the noises of the shots carried quite a ways through the forest. Maybe they were closed?

Further on she walked. There, a doe! She watched as the doe slowly passed a few feet in front of her. The eyes of the doe looked soft and calm. Emmy took a few minutes to marvel at the beauty. Next she came to the fork that led to the old forest restaurant, or at least the shell of the old, broken down building that it used to be. 

Father had taken her there many times when she was little and told her stories about the lovely people who had lived there in his youth. He had had such a yearning in his voice when he told her about the delicious chicken pot pies and chocolate cakes and the lovely waitress who had served them. 

Emmy had known the place only as a shuttered, old structure made from bleached out planks that was leaning precariously to the left side. Moss and sapling had reclaimed much of the outside facade and remnants of broken window panes had been hanging in the crooked window frames. She never felt the need to explore it. It had a certain sadness about it that she did not want to disturb. She still liked it, mainly, because her father was so fond of it.

Emmy was about to pass the fork in the road when she saw the sign for the place. There had never been a sign for it before. But here it was, a sturdy wooden beam holding a nicely white painted sign. Written on it in artful lettering was: Forest Restaurant Reinhard, 2 Miles. With an arrow pointing up the path. Strange, Emmy thought.

Her plan to go to the lake forgotten, Emmy followed the path. She decided that this warranted an investigation and a thorough one at that. She walked a few steps and a fox crossed in front of her. It stopped short for a second, looked at her, amber eyes twinkling, and then went on its merry way.

I have never seen that much wildlife so close by and so calm in these woods, Emmy thought.

 She kept walking a bit more. Something made her stop. She first didn’t even realize what it was. Then it slowly dawned on her. It was music. Was she actually hearing music? Could she trust her own ears?

There was definitely music coming from up ahead. More precisely, someone was playing the piano, after a rainstorm, in the middle of the woods. 

Emmy walked faster.

She came to the familiar bend that opened up the vista to the ruin, only to stare open-mouthed at what she saw instead. 

There it was, Forest Restaurant Reinhard in all its glory. The house was standing up straight, with strong and sturdy planks, a fresh coat of paint and trimmings and glass in all the windows. The path before it was neatly trimmed and flowers were planted along the way and in window planters.

 Even more alarming, there were people sitting in front of the house at small tables, eating cake and drinking coffee and wearing rather strange clothes. They were having animated conversations and quite obviously a good time. Waitresses in black and white outfits with white bonnets on their heads were taking orders. The piano music was coming from inside the house. Someone was playing rousing ragtime tunes. A dog was sitting by the doorstep. The place was bustling with activity. 

Emmy kept staring. How could this be?

The place was exactly how her father had described it to her. The green painted garden chairs and the black round metal tables. The silver looking tiny creamer carafes and sugar bowls, even the pieces of chocolate cake. And yes, the flowers on the window sills were tulips, just like he had said, red and yellow tulips. Emmy was still rooted to her place. None of this made sense. 

A young woman in a waitress uniform finally saw her and came rushing over to her. She was a young woman with blonde hair in a curly bob. The white bonnet was sitting a little awry and she had some coffee stains on her apron. None of that mattered, because she beamed a lovely smile and held her arms open wide. Emmy didn’t even flinch when this stranger came close and held her by the shoulders, she emanated such warmth. After sighing a deep sigh the waitress addressed her.

“Emily! You finally made it! We feared you would never find your way home. I was honestly wondering if Henry had prepared you sufficiently. Welcome to Forest Restaurant Reinhard on Memory Lane.”