One of my life lessons is to understand that a loss is often the beginning of something, not the end. Life can empty us out and then fill us up if we let it.

That is what faith is all about. I was shocked four years ago to find an ice cream stand in Bennington, Vermont, that sold delicious lobster and clam roads, two of my favorite foods. A lobster fisherman from Maine had a house and family in Vermont, and he brought fresh lobster and whole-bellied clams to the ice cream place. They were the last things I expected to see on the menu,  but once I had one, I was hooked.

I grew up in Rhode Island, and we had easy access to great seafood. In updated Neew York, it is not easy to find. In a small rural village, it is impossible.

The rolls were expensive – sometimes close to $50 – but they were beautiful, and on my birthday, Maria would take me to the ice cream stand and buy me one. This was a wonderful birthday gift; these have been among my favorite foods for almost all my life.

This is America, so nothing lasts long. The ice cream stand was sold two years ago and is being converted into a car wash. Yuk.

Today, I went to the Chiropractor who is helping me get through the back pain caused by my concussion and collapse a few weeks ago. Nanch got me hurting so that I could recover, and I hobbled out of there. I felt even older.

I’m going back next Wednesday. On the way out, I passed a food cart called the Vermont Grill. I’m learning not to be a snob about food carts; in recent years, they’ve provided me with some of the best meals I’ve ever had. I’ve also learned to embrace change, especially as I get older. Stasis is a kind of death in my mind.

I drove past the grill, a neat, small rolling cart with handwritten food signs in the window – hamburgers, hot dogs, etc. painted on the side. There was a table with a red both and napkins and condiments. It was all quite neat. They knew what they were doing, and the line just kept getting longer, mostly working, middle-class people.

I got a quarter of a mile past it, and a voice went off in my head: – “Hey, don’t be stiff; you’re always blabbing about trying new things; here is a new thing.” I’ve heard many good things about this cart; it is a popular lunch cart, as I could see when I turned around and drove up.

(Every afternoon, Zip waits for me on the back porch. When I come out, we take a walk together or if the weather allows, we sit together in the chairs next to the pasture gate. He always seems to know when I am coming out, and I try not to disappoint him (or me.)

There was a long line as lunch approached. Several people in the line told me how good the food was, so I tried it. I was thinking about a burger. Maria was at the Mass MoCA museum in Massachusetts with her friend Emily, and I was headed to the supermarket for a much-needed food stop. I was hungry.

I went to the window, introduced myself, and looked up at the special paper list on the window. The first one was “Lobster Roll, $18.00.” I wondered if the same lobsterman delivered lobsters and clams to the VT Grill. The site was plain enough; the car sat in an empty lot, and the tables around the people behind the window were friendly and welcoming.

The owner joked with me, but the line was long, and we didn’t talk much. I didn’t have a chance to get his name. Next time. And there will be a next time, and soon.

He said my order number was “99.” Then added, “Not you, your order.” I like him right away. “Getting close,” I said, and we both laughed. I said I was pleased to get a lobster roll. I’ve had a lot of awful lobster rolls. I was hoping for a good one today, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

The sandwich came in just a few minutes, and I was shocked again. The Lobster Roll was tucked in a color full wrapper paper marked “hot dog,” it felt whole and complete. “Sorry about the wrapper,” he said, “they all say hot dog.” You had to like the guy.

It felt good, something lost, but then found, both unexpected.

I took it to the car (I  regret not photographing it), and it was juicy and delicious – even better than the ones from the ice cream stand. I was shocked and delighted and wondered again at the wheel of life, always turning.

I never expected to eat a Lobster Roll in Bennington, Vermont, not at an ice cream stand or a small lunch cart in an empty lot just off a busy highway. I have learned never to expect loss or defeat to be forever. Trouble is always the start of something better. When I lose something or someone  I care about, find something and meet someone or find something new. If  I’m open to it, life is available to me.

Loss can hurt, but suffering is up to me.

I am happy to have a place to get my Lobster Roll again, my favorite food. It matters to me.

This one was perfect; the lobster meat just melted in my mouth. I’m going to see my Chiropractor next Wednesday. She gave me some exercises to help get the back better, and she says my falling on so hard it put everything out of whack. Be patient, she said, it will be better.

I can’t wait until Wednesday. I know where I will stop for lunch on the way home; maybe they will have full-bullied clams for lunch. That will be a touchy choice. Life is a wheel, it just keeps on turning.