20 Creamy

I've been married to Jason for over 17 years. Which means I've woken up beside him something like 46,225 times. That's a really nice thing, easing into the new day with a person you dig. And whether one or both of us are rushing out the door with the kids during the week or we're savoring the horizontal-friendly nature of the weekends, our mornings always kick off the same way: with coffee.

One morning a while back, on a day when I was lucky enough to be the last one up, I bumbled downstairs, went to pour my first cup, and found a little scribble of a note next to the freshly brewed pot.

Three words: Wake up sleeper.

It made me ridiculously happy. There were a few things at work here. There was the white mug thoughtfully pulled from the cabinet and placed on the counter, there was the steamy jet-black coffee waiting to be poured, and there was the message, with its undertones of both comfortable domesticity and flirty middle-school note-passing. I promptly tucked it away for safekeeping.

He was back at it the next morning. And the next. And the next. He wrote on whatever was handy — scraps of paper, backs of envelopes, hotel stationery, Post-its — and about whatever was on his mind.

Some, like the first, were simple a.m. greetings:

First cup and Welcome to the day

Some seemed to have an audible, built-in sigh:

What a week and Keep parenting

Some commemorated a family milestone:

Last Saturday in this houseand 16 years!

Some focused on our couple-ness, which is to say putting our parenting purposely out of focus:

City dwelling, late night eating partner! and Super weekend with you

And one was composed of just eight letters and a symbol:

Everyday

I don't think Jason knows I saved these notes, each and every one, in an envelope in the cupboard. We never talked about this exchange; somehow it became a silent, sacred ritual. Which is precisely why, without warning or fanfare, this magazine will be left open to this very page...and placed right next to our coffee pot.

The End-