The Waitress

The question that is always asked

Not sure if this happens in other cultures.

For years, when I would visit Puerto Rico and perhaps at the local bakery, gas station or even supermarket, strangers would ask “are you Elias’s daughter?” With pride and a smile from ear to ear, I’d say “yes.”

After my Dad earned his wings, it didn’t happen for the following year when I visited.

The year after, I’d be asked “are you Fernando’s sister?” With pride and a smile from ear to ear, I’d say “yes.”

Today, we were at a restaurant.

We were discussing how much I miss my parents. How visiting Puerto Rico is so different.

I was almost in tears. 

At that precise moment, the waitress says, “I know you.” I nodded. I didn’t recognize her.

She says, “you are Carmen’s daughter.” With pride and a smile from ear to ear, I said “yes.” She told me who she was, and we chatted for a bit.

The waitress recently moved back because her mother has Alzheimer’s. 

How these people know who you belong to or who you are related to is beyond my imagination.

One thing is for sure, I so happy the waitress knew who I was. 

Can’t explain the feeling or why those questions bring me joy, they just do. 

Until the next,

EP