Author's note: This post is a week late because none of my passwords are on the other computer and the squarespace blog app BLOWS (love the site but seriously, get your mobile game together)
This morning, I dropped my boyfriend off at the airport. I had an errand to run near Green Lake, so I drove up, did a slow lap, picked up my race packet for tomorrow's run, and headed home.
Being alone for breakfast, I did what we all do: found a table for one. Today, that was at Cheeky Cafe right next to my old apartment.
There are a million reasons to love this place, not the least of which is the nostalgia that comes with it. My friends and I used to fill tables and then all order tomato soup and grilled cheese when we needed a break between board games.
This place is special for another reason though, one I'd either forgotten or just taken for granted. It's kind of a 'table for one' haven.
Back when I lived next door, this was my home. It was a place my ex husband approved of, so long as I wasn't with anyone he didn't approve of (which meant anyone who wasn't him). When he deployed, it meant I could enjoy a meal by myself without feeling judged by the host or other patrons because half the dining room was people eating solo.
Those meals turned into a kind of unplugged escape for me when it was rough between him and I (which was always). They sometimes were followed by movies by myself, especially when I needed to extend the outing and disappear into a happy fantasy.
Now I'm living that happy, healthy, loving life I was dreaming of just a few years ago. Brunch gets to just be awesome eggs and deep-fried French toast (at least as good as it sounds). It gets to be a quiet pause of appreciation; one that I can enjoy so much more because of those people I wasn't "allowed" to be here with.