I met a man for coffee this morning. The man happened to be my husband of nearly eleven years.
We took the small Bears to school and then had to meet to sign papers for a refinance of our mortgage. We are going to pay off the mortgage in 15 years instead of 30. If all goes as planned, we'll own our home by the time the GB is ready for college.
The Bear needed to travel to a different worksite for the afternoon. He had time to kill before meeting some coworkers to carpool with them. We decided to get coffee together. We just went to Starbucks, it's the easiest option these days.
This particular Starbucks is brand new, having been built only this past fall. It's right down the street from our house and we've enjoyed having one so close to home. There are murals on the walls and fake-old tables and lots of magazines and newspapers lying around. It makes us miss the funky coffeehouses of our youth. We can't find too many of those anymore.
He had a grande bold, black. I had a tall skinny latte with Splenda and a little vanilla sugar. We have divergent tastes in coffee.
I talked his ear off while he logged into his email and made notes to take to his meeting later on. It wasn't the most romantic date. But we enjoyed having 45 minutes alone in the middle of the day. That doesn't happen to us very often.
We talked about our small Bears, our weekend plans and our pride in our financial stability. I told him I would be making pork chops for dinner. I took pictures as I often do. He laughs but I take pictures most places I go. I even took some pictures of him.
We parted ways. I went to pick up the small Bears, by way of the grocery store. He headed to the carpool meeting area.
We kissed goodbye in front of Starbucks. My heart felt skippy-jumpy while I waved him off. He still makes me feel like the twenty-year-old girl who met him at a college party, before mortgages, children and overpriced lattes.