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Saturdays are for us. I sleep in carelessly and when I finally wake up I lay in bed with my husband and we talk for another two hours or so. I rest my head on his chest and listen to his plans and dreams as I drift off into my own as he speaks. I nod in response with the occasional, “mhmm” - trying to comprehend his ideas while at the same time putting together my own. And when we decide it’s time to be vertical, we get up and catch the tail end of brunch. We talk some more over a gooey cinnamon roll then decide to go for a drive. The drive turns into a walk. The walk turns into a coffee date. I splurge because caffeine is allowed again. We talk some more... about work, and news, and politics, and ratchetness. We pick each others’ brains. We agree on a lot of things. But not everything, and that’s okay. I like having coffee conversations with my husband. And although he doesn’t drink coffee, I hope this never goes away.


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