Reba's

It's dark, I am driving down a downtown in the middle of Kansas that has closed down for the night and it is only seven-thirty. Although I have Eden in the backseat and I am promoting this experience as a "get-a-way," I am finding myself incredibly lonely for familiar.
The town is quaint, all of the townspeople are kind and sweet, but it still feels like crashing a family reunion. They speak about generations of families I have never met and laugh at inside jokes I have never heard. Darling, if I were on the inside and not the outside.
I remembered a restaurant from a trip here about four or five months ago, I believed it was called Reba's and was located on Main Street.
I felt a peace and calmness return to me as I walked through the hall of the cherry stained wood paneling and landed at the tile top high bar. This wonderful, smiling woman looks at me and remembers exactly what I had last time I was there and ask about my health issues that made me eat so simply.
The ambiance of a district in my town that I love to dine in coupled with Reba, really Rebecca, who rolls up her sleeves and prepares me a dish all too familiar - oh, connected.
The connection isn't just the familiar, the connection is also in the sincerity of the couple who owns Reba's. They are beautifully comfortable in their own skin and enjoy the moments, not the results of life. Their conversation is like traveling back in time with my dad in an era of free love and housing. Relaxed, far from judging anyone, just in the moment.
There must be scattered throughout this eclectic nation a band of familiar souls that recognize each other as they drift through their journey of life excited to run into one another and share their travels.
To those souls, I believe I owe a huge, "thank you" for your exsistence...