This Crappy Hotel Is Home

Sometimes you step down to someone else's step up

The young boy was probably about 13.

He met our eyes briefly and, even though it was 7AM (early for any self-respecting teen), he smiled and said “Good Morning!”

Then he went on his way to the breakfast room.

We’ve stayed in nicer hotels.
Most hotels we’ve stayed at are nicer hotels.

The room is… passable.
Worn carpets. Shower head and faucet holding on by habit.
Bed skirt salt-stained. God, I hope it’s salt.
Why would it be salt though? Oh god.

But it’s fine. Largely clean.
Modest. If hungover-chic was a type of modest.

Like many cheap hotels it has an included breakfast.
I am willing to overlook many flaws and many parking lots if a hotel has a waffle maker.

It was on my way to the breakfast room (tables, chairs, wall of prepared breakfast ingestibles, news channel on the tv) that I realized that these young families I was seeing weren’t fellow travellers.

This was home.

It may be a temporary home but for now, this was home.

A mom brought her young daughter, who was maybe about 8, in for yogurt and a muffin. A few minutes later her older brother, around 17, came in, fist bumped his little sister and off they went… to school I guess.

I don’t know what situation these kids came from before they ended up at this hotel by the highway but… they were happy.

Maybe Mom made the brave decision that enough was enough in an abusive relationship and escaped with the kids.

Maybe the family arrived from faraway lands in hopes of making a better life.

Maybe they were living day to day as they recovered from financial hardship.

I don’t know why they were here but they were happy they were here.

This hotel that I felt was a step or two beneath me was better than where they were before.

AND it has a waffle maker.
I guess this place isn’t that bad.

I hope they never lose that happiness.

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