When was the last time you met your spouse for coffee? I know, I know, there is coffee at home. And there is the babysitting issue, and money is tight. But all that aside, when was the last time?
A few weeks ago John and I actually planned to go out together. This is not normal behavior for us, but we did it anyway. I arranged for a ride for Ben
and even had a place in mind. Then we got in a tiff. I did not really want to go out with him anymore. Why spend good money to argue when we could do it for free at home?
But something I cannot quite put my finger on pushed me to get in the car, not talking much, and drive to the cafe. We stood in line and ordered, and sat down at one of those little tables where neither of you can actually hide. It was almost as stilted as a date back in high school, only
clammier.
Then the food came, and we paid attention to our entrees. I bumped a glass and he caught it before it fell. We held hands for the blessing, because tiff or no tiff that is what we do.
Forgetting that I was supposed to be aloof, I started to tell him about my day. He listened, in a way that he has developed over the years and could not help but resurface even in the current emotional
weather.
He smiled. I softened. The Issue started to lose its grip as a headline, and we were bantering about something much more interesting.
I lost myself in the moment, in the time together, in the familiarity of being with someone who has seen me chew with my mouth open. He has watched me misbehave and not bailed. How can that not be precious? How can I treat him more carelessly than someone else's
dishware?
It was an ordinary lunch date. But then again, not so much.
