This past weekend Mr. Moss and I did something we never do: on a whim, we threw our bags into the car and headed for an impromptu overnight stay in San Francisco for some quality couple time. We checked into our hotel and like giddy teenagers, we headed out into the sunny, ocean-air with absolutely nothing planned.
We walked and shopped and held hands and simply hung out. And the best part, was that I didn’t worry (well, maybe a little) about the boys. Although, it does help that our ‘boys’ happen to be six-foot guys now, with busy lives of their own, but this is still new to us, this sudden realization of being a couple again.
And the glimpse of a new horizon that lies ahead where these kinds of romantic trips are possible.
We discovered a wine bar next to Market street, where we sat and talked about the Buddha’s meaning of impermanence, and pondered the history of the city, the idea of moving, and ate truffle French fries. And when we walked back out into the sun, my cell phone rang and it was Patrick excitedly telling us that he and his college room-mates had found a new place to live for the next school year. So I handed the phone to his Dad, for a brief discussion of finances. And a few minutes later, Michael called to tell us he was going to see a movie with friends, and yes, Mom, Stella, (our mischievous puppy), was fine.
And I felt my old-motherly-worry-wart self being soothed. And this feeling felt luxurious.
So that all of a sudden, I could hear every word that Mr. Moss spoke, in the same the way that you hear somebody in the middle of a hushed chapel. Only instead of somber words, I heard my own laughter, because Mr. Moss happens to be the funniest man that I know.
And I savored this happy moment.
Not because we are any perfect couple, God knows that doesn’t exist. But after twenty-five years together, our imperfections seem like a leathery, well constructed shoe. And those worn scuff marks that have come about from difficult times and immaturity, and arguments have only added to the value of our years together as a couple.
And what’s truly astonishing—if you think about it-- is that when there’s no one else around, and no kid worries, or loud TV, or work stresses, or household bills to discuss, I realize that my husband is still THE person that I want to hang out with, on a day of glorious freedom in San Francisco. And his perspective is still the one I want to explore after a whirl-wind day of living, because his opinions still intrigue me and comfort me.
Yes, during this weekend I had many small moments to savor.
We had wonderful food.
And I had time to read my book in the car. And catch up on small, chit-chat with Jim.
I felt lucky that the kids were safe and happily busy.
And that I had quiet moments to reflect and be grateful for everything I have.
But the interesting thing about this overnight trip was that I didn’t actually want to go. No, I was thinking of all the things that I needed to get done, and I knew that the weekend presented a productive chunk of time to finish some work that we both had, but I listened to Mr. Moss.
And I heard his need for some relaxation. So I went along with my classic resigned look and my pouty, protruding lower lip, and I’m so glad I did. Because all we really have are moments, precious moments.
So tell me, which small moments did you savor this weekend?