We used to do this before we had kids. Go out for breakfast on Saturday morning. Back then we lived in Regina and the choices were many. We knew which place served the best waffles, or where the coffee was freshest. And then came the children and the breakfasts were no more.

Lately, though, we’ve been breakfasting again. We are small-towners, now, so the choices are not as plentiful. But it’s not as much about the food, anymore. Its more about a chance to be together, have some time alone, look at each other, talk to each other … connection in the midst of distracting lives.

So, in a few minutes I’ll dry my hair and collect my husband from the yard where he is shooting his arrows into a bale, and we will drive into town and have poached eggs or bagels or maybe the special, and I might have a latte but he’ll have plain coffee, a cup and a half. And he’ll tell me about his week and the boss that keeps messing things up and the jobs that were hard to do because of the wind, and I’ll tell him about the boys and the weasel they caught and kept in a cage in the garage for a few days. And the connection that has been stretched because of time apart will be reinforced again.

This is an important part of our marriage. A continual coming back and reconnecting. This is, I suppose, relationship.

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