One of my longest held beliefs is that nothing says I Have Today Day Off like going out for breakfast. Whether we’re talking breakfast burritos, pancakes, omelets, or hash browns. Country potatoes, biscuits and gravy, bacon and eggs, or French toast. I truly think there is no way to thoroughly and joyfully announce to the world that the day ahead is yours and yours alone than hitting up a greasy breakfast joint. It is the taste of freedom.

Today I had the day off, and so when I suddenly became absurdly hungry while wondering what to do with myself for the rest of the morning – like, unbearably hungry – I took it as a sign. It was coming on 10:30am and my body knew that I could not waste this opportunity of a Day Off by not treating myself to a diner-style plate of breakfast food. Nothing else would do, so off I went.

Maybe it’s because I had no choice for a large part of my adulthood, but another long-held belief of mine is that going out to eat by yourself is an experience that everyone should enjoy from time to time. I lost count well over a decade ago how many meals I’ve gone out for on my own, and being alone at those meals is something I’ve never regretted or resented. But for some reason, today, I had this completely unbidden wish I wasn’t alone. After ordering my biscuits and gravy with a side of hash browns, drinking my coffee in my own little diner booth, I suddenly pictured my dad sat across from me, and imagined that this breakfast was a long-awaited catchup after not seeing each other for just over five years.

This does happen from time to time, as I’m sure it does with anyone who has lost a loved one. I’ll just be bopping along and then I will be absolutely zapped with the sensation that my dad is nearby. The first time was while working at the Anthropologie in Spitalfields – to this day I have to remind myself that the vivid image I have of my dad seated on a bench outside the store, one arm stretched over its back, watching passer-by and waiting for me to finish work, is not real.

I can think of at least three not-so-random reasons that this happened today. One, just over a week ago marked the fifth anniversary of my dad’s death, and it was the first since he died that came and went without me even realizing. Two, this morning, like so many mornings, I happened to look at my phone at 11:11am and thought of him. And three, I have a distinct memory of going out to breakfast at IHOP with my dad sometime during 2012, seated in a booth very similar to the one I found myself in this morning. I remember writing a Tumblr post about it, because as I added salt to my hash browns that morning and caught up with my dad – who in 2012 was really having a tough time – I thought that no matter how difficult and shitty things had become, I wouldn’t trade him for any other dad.

So, I spent my breakfast wondering at all the things I would say to my dad if we were, in fact, having breakfast together for the first time in five years for some unknown reason that was interesting and mysterious rather than sad. There would be SO much to tell him.

Nope, I don’t live in London anymore. Moved back in 2021 in the midst of a pandemic that you were very lucky to miss experiencing first-hand. I left retail! Yes, I know you were always proud of me no matter what I did, but I like to think you’d be extra proud of me for finally achieving that goal. I’ve moved about five more times, moving is still the worst. And I got married! Yes, to that boy you hated when we were in high school, but I promise he has become a very responsible adult that has more in common with Grandpa King than you ever would have guessed was possible, and it makes me so happy that you knew him. I wish I could’ve been more supportive of you when you needed it, but man that’s easier to see in retrospect than it was in the moment. I love you and I miss you very much, but I’m also glad you didn’t have to endure the insanity that has been (and continues to be) the world since you left it in mid-2019. Thank you for buying a ridiculously fancy video camera in 1985 and recording so many random childhood moments, but also – would it have killed you to get out from behind the camera more often! It’s okay though, hearing your voice is still the best. (Even if what you’re saying is an exasperated “See, now that’s the problem!”)

What a breakfast that would’ve been. Don’t get me wrong: my biscuits and gravy and (extra crispy) hashbrowns were delicious, and I devoured them in less than fifteen minutes. I still have the rest of the day off and the humidity has calmed down, so it is a glorious and breezy seventy-five degrees. Life could be a whole lot worse right now and my grief has mostly receded and turned into a nostalgia that is more warm than sad. But getting to share this morning with my dad? That would’ve been a pretty great way to spend a day that was mine and mine alone, and I think I’m just going to pretend I got to do it anyway. (You ordered the chicken fried steak – the “Big Chicken” version. Neither of us knew what it meant but it seemed like the right thing to do.)