I’ve been going to Johnny Seesaw’s for as long as I can remember. Back when I was a kid, the Mural Alcove was filled with cushions and my brother and sisters would curl up and play cards while our parents ate dinner. We but our ski boots on the steps around the fire to dry overnight without a worry. We came to breakfast in our socks and long johns. It was all so familiar and lovely.
Bringing my husband and infant daughter back felt like i had never missed a year. The dining may have been refined, but the warm bread and pork chops were still there. And our family’s Plaque was still in the front hall. It was like coming home.