The Real Smilie Breakfast

Ever since it was just me and my mom we only ever went to one place for breakfast, Linda's South Side Restaurant. Linda’s is a small restaurant in Butler and has been close to the viaduct crossing since as long as I have been alive and probably longer. I can remember my mom taking me there on special days in the morning, just me and her. Linda’s is in an old building and has been in desperate need for another remodeling for a while now. But, I hope that it never gets that remodeling. I remember walking in to see wooden booths and a bar style serving area in front the kitchen window. The room smells of cigarette smoke, the smoking section was in the front of the restaurant because it was the original building and was built before there was a smoking and non-smoking section. My mother, being the good mother she was, always took me swiftly through this room. We would walk about ten feet and make a sharp right through door way that connected the original Linda’s to the store that use to be beside it, that was now apart of Linda’s. I remember always stepping over a large coffee stain that was just past this doorway and going to the booth we usually sat at unless it was already taken, the second from the wall on the far side of the room. I ordered the same thing every time we went, a chocolate milk and the Linda’s special. This order came with two eggs (I got them scrambled with a slice of cheese on top), bacon or sausage (in early years I got sausage then graduated to bacon later), Hash browns or home fries (I could never remember the difference so I guessed each time), and toast (I always got white, although next time we go I will get wheat), and it always came with a small glass of orange juice. I loved the meals there. Sure, the place wasn’t the cleanest place, but the food is always the best at places at like that. Well, maybe not always but in this case it was. After the meal, mom and I would sit and talk about school or summer or something, they were some of the best times I have had with my mom. She would let me pay the bill after we were done eating. I remember walking up to the register and handing the waitress the bill and the money, hoping the whole time that I was given enough so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed and have to return to the table to get another dollar from my mom. I don’t ever remember having to do that, but I was always scared of it for some reason. We always left and walked across the street to the parking lot with full stomachs and smiles.