A Letter to the Love of My Life on National Waffle Day
Today is National Waffle Day, so allow me to share these words written for my one, my only--the love of my life-- Waffle House.
I had a nightmare last year in which I found myself a bit 'lost in the sauce' after a day of tailgating. I yearned to slide into one of your sticky booths and order an All-Star Special to get myself right with the Lord, but when I walked up to your restaurant on The Strip, you were empty. Gone. I beat on the windows, but then you just... disappeared.
I woke up in a cold sweat, as the thought of a life without you was too much to bear. I ate at one of your fine establishments the next day, sopping up my sausage with the leftover syrup of a double-stack pecan waffle. It, precious love, was transcendent.
A few weeks later we were separated by a COVID-19 closure. There wasn't a dark day that passed during which I yearned to be scattered, smothered, and covered by your love. The day we were reunited was one of the happiest moments of the sad spectacle that is my life.
How many treasured memories have we shared?
Remember that time I was like maybe eight and my parents let me order coffee for the first time? I felt so mature and metropolitan.
You put up with me during my awkward high school theater kid days, and for that I'll always appreciate you. You literally saved my life when I was in college, allowing your griddle fried friendship to sober me up when I needed it the most.
Remember that time I had a little too much and decided to play every song about waffles in your jukebox? Baby, who even writes and records those waffle tunes? How can I know you so intimately and find so much mystery inside of you?
You are everything I will ever need. I could eat a pecan waffle every day. Your All-Star Special would be my death row meal, and you know what? Even your chili slaps.
I will love you until I die--and once I do, prop me up beside the jukebox.