This morning the Boy and I woke up lateish, but not too late to feel like we'd wasted the day. It felt like a Sunday morning in every aspect and I immediately suggested breakfast. We made our way to a favorite spot. The Boy said it would be too busy, we'd probably have to wait, I had faith. I got in line while he parked and had a table within minutes. After breakfast we picked up a fresh copy of the Globe and headed to my porch. There was a soft breeze, plenty of light and enough news to keep us busy for a good hour plus. I must admit, it was delightful. Later in the day I cleaned up the apartment, and watered the plants. It was the kind of Sunday morning I always wish for. Feeling connected, enjoying each others company, spending quiet moments together that often mean more than the passion and romance most people yearn for.
Next Sunday will be our last opportunity for a Sunday morning like todays for awhile. Sunday mornings after will be the end of the visit day, and those days suck. In the grand scheme it isn't too long for us to wait until every Sunday morning will be an opportunity for breakfast out, the paper on a breezy porch and quiet moments. I'm just sick of waiting.