Sean of the South | What happens in diners, stays in diners

OPINION — The little boy was with his mom, sitting in a truckstop diner. The boy was bald, wearing a loose T-shirt. A large bandage showed from beneath his collar. Before the boy sat a massive meal. Bacon. Eggs. Huge glass of chocolate milk. Stack of pancakes bigger than a midsize SUV. “It feels so weird, my stitches itch,” the boy said. “Eat your pancakes,” said Mom. Mom looked tired. Her hair looked like she had slept on it. Her clothes, crumpled. “How many days was I in the hospital?” the boy asked. The mother sighed. “Twenty-six. Now eat your pancakes.” Everyone in the little restaurant was staring at mother and son. Especially the trucker in the booth behind them, who couldn’t help but eavesdrop. Mother and son ate in silence for a while. The boy was inhaling his food while Mom nursed