Thank you for this beautiful writing. And thank you for inducing a breakfast burrito craving! We live in an area that is highly suburban and I feel like we only have the chains. I desperately want a local diner to frequent and support!
I am DESPERATE for a California breakfast burrito in Denver. There are some great breakfast burritos here! As good even! But none of them quite work as well for me as the Southern California version. I have noticed that this kind of fast casual diner is not quite as prevalent in suburbs outside of Southern California and I wish it wasn't so!
This made me cry over my tea this morning. I lost my dad ten years ago and he LOVED to eat out, everywhere from the local greasy spoon to the finest fine dining experience. Oh, to slide into a booth across from him one more time. A great piece, capturing just how seemingly mundane conversations across a formica table could be so essential to my memory of my dad.
It'll be nine years since my dad died this coming February. It feels both like he just left and he's always been gone. Time is a funny odd thing. I am so sorry for your loss. Grief really remains, doesn't it?
What you described is exactly the mood I have always wanted with my kid. I had a great conversation recently with someone who asked what kind of life I wanted (it was a pre-interview pseudo-interview) and all I could summon was "flexibility enabled by trust" -- but this ^ is what I want. I want to not be slave to a clock the way my mom was. And I don't think she was, actually, though she may have thought she was and she definitely made me feel like she was. She was just always protective of her work time to the point of being kind of paranoid and making me feel like an imposition on her. She always said in some words or others, that I was the most important thing in her life, but a, I always felt like an *image of me that she could brag about and was never real and was never possible* was the most important thing and b, actually not even that was more important than being at work on time and for the entire day. The stories I have of what she said if I ever called home sick from school oh the stories. They all involve throwing up in the nurses office. Multiple times. Because she didn't come pick me up.
I want the opposite of that. I want to KNOW my kid. I want to listen to her real thoughts. I want to be late for work because it was the kind of morning that calls for taking my kid out to the diner and I want to leave early because it's the last day to get ice cream before the shop closes for fall. (obviously, all important feelings revolve around food).
And now I get to grapple with the feelings of guilt because obviously her obsessive work has led to a material comfort that left me with no student debt, and no worries about paying for her elder care, and what an ungrateful child I am. Fun!
But anyway. Thank you for helping me distill my vision for my life! The rest is for therapy!
I love the life you envision for yourself. "Flexibility enabled by trust" is a phrase I am going to be thinking about for a long, long time. I love it. And I get how complicated our relationships with our parents can be - don't feel guilty or ungrateful. We're all just processing in real time.
I grew up in Lake Forest (née El Toro) I love how you write about my home place. Especially knowing you are doing so from Denver, where I have landed as well.
Thank you for talking about your dad, it’s moving and important.
There just isn’t a breakfast burrito out there quite like a southern CA breakfast burrito.
Riley's grandparents live in Lake Forest! I've spent a lot of time there. I always get The Hat on the way to their house! Thank you so much for being here. And agreed, never had a breakfast burrito quite like a Southern California breakfast burrito!
This is poignant and beautiful. Those moments of recognition are so powerful. What a gift your dad gave you with those mornings--as much as grief never leaves, it's powerful because of having a connection like that. With gratitude for sharing.
My dad worked a lot during my childhood to support our rather large family. With all of that, he still made sure to carve out time where it could be just the two of us - reading this felt like those moments together. Your writing always seems to pull out the memories and feelings hiding just beneath the surface of my subconscious. Thank you!
Your writing is as nourishing as a breakfast burrito, dear Meg. Thank you for this and all your deep and brilliant work. ❤️
This is the best writing review I’ve ever gotten. Thank you. I respect your work so much, so your words here are extra sweet.
Thank you for this beautiful writing. And thank you for inducing a breakfast burrito craving! We live in an area that is highly suburban and I feel like we only have the chains. I desperately want a local diner to frequent and support!
I am DESPERATE for a California breakfast burrito in Denver. There are some great breakfast burritos here! As good even! But none of them quite work as well for me as the Southern California version. I have noticed that this kind of fast casual diner is not quite as prevalent in suburbs outside of Southern California and I wish it wasn't so!
This made me cry over my tea this morning. I lost my dad ten years ago and he LOVED to eat out, everywhere from the local greasy spoon to the finest fine dining experience. Oh, to slide into a booth across from him one more time. A great piece, capturing just how seemingly mundane conversations across a formica table could be so essential to my memory of my dad.
It'll be nine years since my dad died this coming February. It feels both like he just left and he's always been gone. Time is a funny odd thing. I am so sorry for your loss. Grief really remains, doesn't it?
What you described is exactly the mood I have always wanted with my kid. I had a great conversation recently with someone who asked what kind of life I wanted (it was a pre-interview pseudo-interview) and all I could summon was "flexibility enabled by trust" -- but this ^ is what I want. I want to not be slave to a clock the way my mom was. And I don't think she was, actually, though she may have thought she was and she definitely made me feel like she was. She was just always protective of her work time to the point of being kind of paranoid and making me feel like an imposition on her. She always said in some words or others, that I was the most important thing in her life, but a, I always felt like an *image of me that she could brag about and was never real and was never possible* was the most important thing and b, actually not even that was more important than being at work on time and for the entire day. The stories I have of what she said if I ever called home sick from school oh the stories. They all involve throwing up in the nurses office. Multiple times. Because she didn't come pick me up.
I want the opposite of that. I want to KNOW my kid. I want to listen to her real thoughts. I want to be late for work because it was the kind of morning that calls for taking my kid out to the diner and I want to leave early because it's the last day to get ice cream before the shop closes for fall. (obviously, all important feelings revolve around food).
And now I get to grapple with the feelings of guilt because obviously her obsessive work has led to a material comfort that left me with no student debt, and no worries about paying for her elder care, and what an ungrateful child I am. Fun!
But anyway. Thank you for helping me distill my vision for my life! The rest is for therapy!
I love the life you envision for yourself. "Flexibility enabled by trust" is a phrase I am going to be thinking about for a long, long time. I love it. And I get how complicated our relationships with our parents can be - don't feel guilty or ungrateful. We're all just processing in real time.
I grew up in Lake Forest (née El Toro) I love how you write about my home place. Especially knowing you are doing so from Denver, where I have landed as well.
Thank you for talking about your dad, it’s moving and important.
There just isn’t a breakfast burrito out there quite like a southern CA breakfast burrito.
Riley's grandparents live in Lake Forest! I've spent a lot of time there. I always get The Hat on the way to their house! Thank you so much for being here. And agreed, never had a breakfast burrito quite like a Southern California breakfast burrito!
This is poignant and beautiful. Those moments of recognition are so powerful. What a gift your dad gave you with those mornings--as much as grief never leaves, it's powerful because of having a connection like that. With gratitude for sharing.
My dad worked a lot during my childhood to support our rather large family. With all of that, he still made sure to carve out time where it could be just the two of us - reading this felt like those moments together. Your writing always seems to pull out the memories and feelings hiding just beneath the surface of my subconscious. Thank you!