morning breakfast at Rosie's in Spokane better coffee than I expected strange looking breakfast potatoes in walks a big muscular guy with his girl heavily tatted black tee saying "Iron Rebel live your truth."
Another big guy at a far away table baseball cap sitting beside an older man long time with his hand resting lightly on the older man's back comforting gentle loving I'm guessing his father.
We're all living our truth however we have come to it I'm sitting by myself memories of the Montvale Hotel where Carol and I stayed years ago visiting a friend here I'm back for his marriage Carol would have loved this day she is here with me to celebrate
Living our truth two guys sit near one brings out a notebook not words musical notation they discuss how the music goes ta da da tada over and over musicians composers I don't know they are oblivious of my wondering about them music seems to be their truth at least a bit of it
Two young guys come in not with each other with their mothers sweet on my walk many couples holding hands Spokane seems different than Seattle living its own truth perhaps born of the river running wild through this city
I have to wonder what my truth is what do those sitting at table think my truth is guess even in their merest glance can I see another's truth at Rosie's in Spokane?
We wear our truth on us more than we know clothes we don to start our day simple gestures of our hands who shares our breakfast how we talk or sing couples with their children you can see it in their eyes faces tell so many stories as much truth as in words more
long walk by the river coming back to the Montvale Hotel starting up the beautiful stairway large party coming down stopping to let them by young woman all in white passing I bow slightly - "I bow to whatever it is you are!" some laughter then, from her, "The bride!"
I suppose this too is my truth trying in my own bumbling way to be thoughtful kind not knowing what others think could possibly be that guy's truth neither they nor I fully know
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