I’m in a hotel lobby. It’s breakfast. We are waiting in line for our gruel. Guests congregate around the coffee urn like puppies at the teat until they drain the urn and leave nothing but dregs for us tired huddled masses.

The dining room is full. There are people everywhere.

A group of businessmen at a table, eating their “eggz.” They are talking with important-sounding voices, the way guys do when they’re en masse. Trying to establish who is alpha by public urination contest.

They’re talking about the eclipse.

“This eclipse is no big deal,” one guy says in a macho tone. “I’ve seen an eclipse before.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen dozens,” another guy says.

“Oh, yeah?” a guy adds. “Well, I used to watch eclipses every weekend, back when they used to play for Miami.”

There is a young family nearby. A mom, dad, and a few kids. One kid is wearing his glasses, looking at his mother.

“Mom, look!” he says. “I’m wearing my glasses!”

Mom does not even move. She is staring straight ahead, like maybe it’s been a long road trip.

“Mom, look! Mom, look! Mom, look!”

The woman takes a sip of coffee, she does not look.

“Momlookmomlookmomlookmom…!”

There is an older couple. They are, evidently, in love. They can’t keep their hands off one another. The older woman is mid-70s, wearing cutoff shorts á la Daisy Duke, cut so high they are showing her her everlasting aspirations. The guy is wearing a tank top and it appears that his upper body hasn’t seen the sun since the early Carter Administration.

They are groping each other. They are kissing passionately while waiting in the serving line.

“They’re definitely not married,” says one elderly lady in line, using a walker.

“How can you tell?” I ask.

“Are you married?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see where he grabbed her?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever been grabbed like that?”

“No.”

She smiles. “Would you like to be?”

Thanks, but no thanks. I have been happily married for nearly 21 years. My wife and I made a solemn agreement from our very beginning: I don’t try to run her life. And I don’t try to run mine.

The table in the corner, however, is the one that draws my attention. There are two little girls. One girl is missing her right arm at the elbow. The other little girl is feeding her.

They aren’t making a big deal about it. The girl is eating cereal.

“Do you want to try feeding yourself?” one girl asks.

“I can’t do it.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Maybe I’ll try.”

The girl uses her good arm to take a bite. But the movement is too awkward for her left hand. She makes a mess. She puts the spoon down. She is clearly disappointed.

“Don’t worry about it,” her friend says. “You’ll get there.”

“I told you I can’t do it.”

Her friend touches her cheek. “You’re the strongest person I know, Sandra. The most amazing sister I’ve ever had. You can do anything. Do you hear me? Anything. Now open up.”

Pretty good morning.