It never fails, I get this incredulous look when I mention my love of breakfasting at Hardee’s. People just don’t get that it’s not Hardee’s per se, nor the gourmet fare.
It’s a ritual. It’s my sanity. It’s the only way my day goes smoothly, not to mention that I have accrued fast friends (though most are almost double my age).
It all started several years ago when a bosom friend asked me to meet her for breakfast. I had worked with her for a couple years and after I moved on, we missed each other terribly. We began to meet just after I dropped my children off to school. She had to be at work at 9, so it gave us about 50 minutes to daily right the wrongs of the world. We swapped presents, shopping tidbits, and shared many books and magazines. To say we inspired each other is grossly underrating.
I then took a job in Hattiesburg and that quelled our time together. It took me awhile to figure out that I still needed down time each morning to get my day in order. I then began dropping the kids off and coming straight to Hardee’s before leaving for work.
Here I sit, in another phase of my life, still coming to Hardee’s. I’m sure were there a place that had a courtyard with a fountain, soft music piped in, and linens, I would go there instead. But I wouldn’t trade that for small town life. Each and every birthday of me and mine starts right here. A candle in a cinnamon raison biscuit is the perfect way to begin the celebratory day.
“Hardee’s” will be on my agenda for the rest of my bourn...ummm born days. I’ll reserve the fountains, music, and linens for special occasions……….away.