My day began with coffee. Usually, it was iced from the day before while I brewed a fresh pot for the restaurant.

I’d fill the sugar caddies, put out the maple syrups in Jarritos bottles, and make sure there was enough mocha mix for the day. A regular early bird would make their way in, and I’d have their order in without even talking. I’d bring over their extra-hot vanilla latte, and we’d both wait for the caffeine to kick in before the conversation started.

I was 29, heartbroken, and feeling very behind in life. The main thing that kept me going was my serving job at Sin of Cortez.

I needed the job to pay my bills. I was about a month away from not being able to make my rent. I needed a routine that was outside my breakup. I needed a way to keep moving forward, even though it felt like life was moving on without me.

Working at any restaurant, customers become a part of your life. The guy who constantly came through the drive-thru becomes Drive Thru John. The woman who was once pregnant was now teaching her young child how to order their meal. Even the staff’s family members become essential.

The restaurant is open every day of the year, and I loved working on the holidays. On Christmas, I dressed up as an elf and stayed in character all day. For Thanksgiving, we ate pumpkin pecan pancakes to greet the season. For Valentine’s Day, the whipped cream had pink and red sprinkles, which somehow made the drink taste better.

And then there was the day I met my husband.

Brad came into the cafe frequently and always sat at the end of the counter. He ordered black coffee, the Verde, and read Harper’s Magazine. He was kind and always took the time to chat with the staff. Soon, he began hanging out after hours and joining us at The Banshee until the wee hours of the morning.

Brad and I became friends. He helped move me twice, both from upstairs apartments to another upstairs apartment, and in return only asked for Ruthless Rye. The following year, we had our engagement pictures taken at the cafe counter, where he used to sit, and hosted our rehearsal dinner there, complete with homemade lasagna prepared by the staff. We even gave out Sin of Cortez coffee beans as favors.

I met my “Chico Mom” there, too. Liz was an older woman who had exquisite style, strong opinions, and loved to talk as much as I did. She hired me to help care for her after she had surgery, and our relationship formed. I loved her sweet old dogs, eclectic home decor, and her knowledge of art history. Liz changed my life in many ways, and I adored being with her.

I met “The Gentlemen” at Sin. A group of guys came in every Wednesday and had lunch. They told jokes, shared travel stories, and all had these unique jobs, from wildlife photographers to jazz musicians. When I started dating my husband, they asked him to lunch and (thankfully) approved of our relationship. When we got married, they even offered to take turns walking me down the aisle, but I had my actual parents do that.

Finding a local place where you feel at home is such an underrated luxury. Nicknames based on your orders, customer service skills acquired, and sometimes, you meet the person you’ll marry. To this day, my husband and I eat there about once a week, sitting in the exact spot where we first traded looks. I will order a cappuccino, and he still gets a black coffee.

I couldn’t have known how much Sin of Cortez would change my life. I didn’t think I’d find people who would show up for weddings and heartbreaks, make birthday pancakes with candles, and still be my emergency contact today. Sin gave me a seat at the table, well, actually at the counter, and that kind of luck feels sacred.