Something odd happened today. I stopped at Louisa's Cafe because I had an hour before my doctor’s appointment. Near the entrance where I normally sit were two waitresses, one that I’d known for years, and one that I didn’t recognize. Until I moved to Morro Bay I used to go there a lot. I sometimes took the bus downtown just for breakfast. So, all in all, I remember the one waitress for a period of three-and-a-half or four years.

The newer waitress was very pretty and decidedly on the ball. Before I had completely arranged my backpack and things, coffee was in my cup, and my order was taken before I sat down. It was like the old days — I first ate there twenty years ago — you could fly in, have breakfast and fly out on a very short leash. Cafe style, we called that.

I ordered scrambled eggs with a biscuit and coffee. In the old days, that would have been scrambled eggs, bacon, home fried potatoes, and a separate plate with a biscuit. Today it was scrambled eggs and a biscuit on the same plate. So, if she made a mistake, she ended up bringing me exactly what I had given up asking for. I asked her about that and she said, rather defensively, “That’s what you ordered.” “Yes,” I said, “and that’s exactly what I wanted.” She froze for a moment and then went back to work.

The waitress I’d known for years refilled my coffee. I asked how long the other waitress had worked there. She made a face and said, “I don’t know. Forever.” When she came by again, I asked, “So, how long have you worked here?” She stopped. Used her fingers. “Three weeks.” “Did you leave and come back?” “No.” “You mean all you’ve ever worked here is thee weeks?” She raised her shoulders and also went back to work.

I asked the cook, who I’ve known for more than a decade. He said she just started. I asked if she looked like anyone who used to work there. He said, not that he knew of. She wore the same un-ironed blouse that was put through the drier and then smoothed out. She was exactly the same size, behaved in exactly the same way. Had the same cheerful smile. But she had just begun to exist.

Yes, I know there are a hundred possible explanations of how I made this memory up, or how I’m mistaken. But I don’t have a memory, I have a hundred memories. And she’s not like the person I remember, she is in every way possible the same exact person, except that no one else remembers. And except that she didn’t exist until three weeks ago. Last week after my blood work was done we had a pleasant conversation, because we’ve known each other for so many years. This week… Well, I think that qualifies as something odd happened today.