We've got a lot of breakfast joints around here. There are more breakfast places than ice cream parlors here on sunny Cape Cod. Most places have lines out the door in the summer and a decent crowd of regulars in the off season.
I love to go out to breakfast.
I usually get one of those big meals with a name like, "Farmer's Special". Eggs, bacon, homefries, toast and coffee. Yes, please. I'll have some coffee.
I got this love of breakfast from my dad.
When we were kids, Dad worked a lot of hours as a repairman for for the phone company. On weekdays, Joe would pick him up in the New England Telephone van before we left for school in the morning. We'd see Dad again at dinner and shortly thereafter say we'd say "goodnight".
Saturdays were for running errands, doing yard work or repairs to the house, as well as keeping an eye on a good percentage of us five kids.
Sundays were a different story. If you got up and went with Dad to the early Mass at St. Mary's there was breakfast in the deal.
I'm no early riser. There are few things I cherish more than sleeping in. Breakfast with my dad is one of them.
From my Sunday morning slumber, I would hear Dad getting ready to go. In a semi-conscious state I would get myself dressed and in the kitchen just in time to go with Dad. "Ready?", he'd say and we'd be out the door.
There wasn't a lot of conversation. I would still be waking up on the short ride to church. Other than, "Peace be with you" we didn't talk during Mass. At the diner, Dad would say, "Hello" to a few folks. He'd say a few words about the headlines or the Red Sox to the guys sitting at the counter seats. Those guys would wave to me as he reminded them which kid I was.
The meal itself was usually pretty quiet. When we were done, Dad would say, "All set?" and we'd head back home.
These days I see Sunday morning from the mom's perspective. My husband takes the kids out to breakfast and I stay in bed on the one day that I can. I don't do this purely for the love of my comforter and down pillow.
I'm staying out of the way of breakfast with Dad.