Joe and I try to sit down together for breakfast every morning, a holdover habit from the days he worked nights and we’d have only a few waking hours to see each other. We tend to take turns making breakfast while the other one walks Wilbur, stirring milk and honey into mugs of coffee and whipping up a fried egg on toast, or peanut butter banana honey toast, or a breakfast burrito or oatmeal or a bowl of cold cereal if we’re tight on time.
We sit there and divide up the morning paper, and read each other snippets of interesting things, and always our horoscopes. I don’t truly believe in astrology, but reading them feels like opening up a fortune cookie – a succinct little secret – and I enjoy that. I’m a Gemini (as our baby will likely be) and Joe is a Libra.
Yesterday, my horoscope said something along the lines of how, when I look out and take stock of everything going on in my life, I will get the sense that “these are the good days.” And I do. It takes my breath away at the strangest moments.
The other night I had this epiphany that we should all just walk around staring in awe at each other and the sheer improbability that we would end up on this planet at overlapping times in the illimitable solar system. Wouldn’t it put this delightful shock into our everyday transactions, that we share so much just by being here on this planet at the same time?
I captured one of our breakfast table moments with the very second Instagram I ever took, sometime last spring, and it makes me smile at how much younger Joe looks without a beard. He shaves it on Opening Day and starts growing it on his birthday, October 2. He turns 30 this year!