Photo: Diva Plavalaguna/Pexels
Every Sunday morning, I walk to my local diner and order three pancakes, fruit, two scrambled eggs and a black coffee. Two friends almost always meet me there. In some ways, it’s become my adult version of church but with more coffee. Each week, the diner’s back-corner booth welcomes us, as the pews once did. Ty gets the corned-beef hash with melted cheese on top. David drifts from eggs benedict to a breakfast burrito to the occasional chopped cheese. What’s for breakfast doesn’t really matter much. That we meet — at the same time and place — does. Recently, we marked almost 40 Sundays running and Sunday mornings no longer feel susceptible to competing distractions in a city full of them. The secret is the simplicity. All that’s required is a single confirmation text, once a week, the night before.
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