Robert and I went down to Rocky Mount to pick up our taxes. Since leaving the library in 2013, I've only been down there maybe three times. Leaving the tax place, we started to head out to Callaway to drive by the old house. But I pulled off the road, started searching on my phone, and told Robert we were going to the BEST hot dog place.
Okay, maybe not the "best," but I remembered it from our annual employee picnic lunches. Now I don't just pull over and say where we are going for lunch--EVER. I'd never been to the actual restaurant (and I use that term oh-so loosely), as they would cater our lunch. Turns out it was just a mile down from where we'd pulled off.
It's not a fancy place; it's not a big place. We walked in, the place was full, and we waited for a minute in the doorway until a waitress told us a table was just leaving. Meanwhile, she set us up with beers while we stood at the end of the bar and waited for the table to be cleaned.
No masks in sight. Not on anyone. No empty tables. Bar full. I literally sat at the table and started weeping because people were living a NORMAL LIFE without fear.