On Saturday mornings we wake up at 6:15 and he puts on a big backpack and I fill up my water bottle and we go to the trail and start walking.
We do it with all of the couples who have been married 40 years. We pass them and greet each other. Kindred generations
We are passed by a young mom or dad trying to squeeze in a run before they make the ritual stop for Saturday morning donuts with their toddlers and their sacrificial spouse waiting at home.
In the canopies above birds fill the morning with their voices.
The occasional bullfrog greets us as we pass the little pond.
For the first two miles we hardly speak to each other, we are waking up. I am still dreaming as I smell the honeysuckle and consider my luck that we are in this day. Then he’ll turn up the Dubliners and we will together go over our week. As we round the corner we’ll be making plans for our weekend and in the final uphill mile and a half to the car we are together considering our future, our options and firm realities.
Soon, we will stop at chick fil a and he will tease me about my stress everytime we go through a drive through and I will suggest we get an extra biscuit just in case.
But for the moment we will be at the brink of our weekend, soaking in the time together. Because it is the early moments that belongs only to us.