House Of Pancakes

You used to be able to walk in, sit down and order up a big plate of hot white flapjacks. But they fired Jack and tore down his house of pancakes. Now it’s a parking lot for UW teachers and administrators. I walked around the empty parking spaces and remembered the time I sat in a booth with my cousin and his girlfriend and their newborn baby boy. It was pouring rain outside while Ben talked to me about building a house for his family. A house deep in the woods. Redwoods to be exact.

I cut off bite size pieces of pancake using the edge of my fork and listened to the rain pound steadily on the steeply pitched roof.

But that time has passed now. Now is the time for cars and parking spaces, not people and comfortable eating-places.


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