The neighbor across the breakfast table

Recently my husband Bill and I were on a rare getaway weekend together. On Saturday morning after a leisurely breakfast—where I was not asked to cut anyone’s waffles—we went for a walk and stopped at a rummage sale. (Not necessarily the most romantic event of the weekend, but we both enjoy a good bargain.) The 60-something lady who was running the sale asked if we lived in the neighborhood. When we explained that we were on a weekend away together, she clapped her hands.  

“That is wonderful,” she said with a thick German accent. “That is good for your marriage. I never wanted to leave my children, even for one night. I never thought anyone could do it as well as I could. My husband wanted me to go away with him, but I said there would be plenty of time for that when the kids are grown. Well, you know what? The kids grew up, and my husband left me for a younger woman. So you two are right in spending time together. I wish I would have.”  Continue reading