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1000 Breakfasts

Breakfast was never so good. Bacon, hash browns with onions, two eggs over medium, and buckwheat pancakes. But it wasn’t just the food – the women around the table made this one of the best ever breakfasts.  For the first time, since March 2020, the Tuesday Breakfast Group recently gathered at a restaurant – not outside, not on Zoom.

            Tuesday Breakfast (Could there be a more mundane name?) began with four women in 2010.  As we rode home together after a girls’ weekend at Fairfield Glade, we talked about how good it felt to laugh and cry and play games and stay up late and wear pajamas all day.  Just women, who often gathered with husbands for Friday night suppers and to celebrate birthdays.

            “We could visit together in Cookeville,” one said.  We all agreed.  Not overnight, but regular visits. Maybe monthly?  No, how about every other week?  Not a weekend day or Monday or Friday.  Tuesday.  Maybe out for lunch?  No, breakfast.  Not too early. How about 9:00?  And with that Tuesday Breakfast formed.

            We met at Algood Diner, moving with it from Algood to its location on Willow Avenue.  When this diner closed, we tried several home-cooking, table-service restaurants before settling at Grandma’s Pancake House. 

            One friend moved out of town and others joined us.  Now, one person sends a reminder text on Monday mornings, and even a message saying, ‘Can’t make it this time!’ connects us. Every other week since 2010, Tuesday Breakfast has been on my calendar. That’s about 1000 breakfasts!

            March, 2020, the world shut down. Tuesday Breakfast at Grandma’s was cancelled. We took folding chairs and sat six feet apart in one friend’s driveway under huge shade trees.  We ate our brown bag lunches or snacks or whatever.  We talked loudly, often repeating what was said because everyone couldn’t hear.  We didn’t touch each other’s stuff.  We waved good-bye.  When cold weather hit, we met mid-day during the warmest part of a day.  And during the coldest months, we Zoomed, holed up in our homes, and ate together across screens.

            Finally, after sixteen months, six Tuesday Breakfast friends sat shoulder-to-shoulder and just inches across the table from each other at Grandma’s Pancake House.  We laughed about dropping food on ourselves.  Laughed so hard that one of us snorted and some wiped tears.  We laughed about things that happened yesterday and years ago.  

            We ate slowly.  Talking and listening are our soul food.  No topic – except some politics – is off limits. We complain and whine.  We praise and share happy times.  A grandchild scoring a soccer goal gets applause.  We share patterns and recipes. We share concerns and problems.  We ask for prayers.

            Before the pandemic, I didn’t fully appreciate Tuesday Breakfast. Last week, it felt so good, so heart- lifting, so comforting to be with these women who are a circle of acceptance and care.              

Last week, we hugged. 

One Response

  1. Your article made my eyes water this morning…in a good way…happy tears! Love you Susan

    Kat Rust Bobkatsr@gmail.com

    >

    Like

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