It was a dreary January, Sunday morning when he asked us to go to breakfast. I, of course was doubtful, he never takes us to breakfast I thought. My mouth started salivating just thinking about all the wonderful breakfast meals restaurants have. I proceeded to get my two young children ready, while he packed the diaper bag. Again I paused, he’s packing the diaper bag, wow he never does that either. My gut was nagging at me that something was horribly wrong, but I kept arguing with myself that I was just fear due to losing my father two months prior. “He’s just trying to be nice Ronnie”, I said to myself, deeper down I knew something wasn’t quite right with this picture.
As we arrive at the mall I wonder, “What the hell are we doing here?” I take notice of the hustle and bustle of an early Sunday morning. The elderly ladies, coupled or single, busily walking around the mall to get their exercise for the day. The older gentlemen nestled at their favorite tables with a hot cup of coffee, chatting with their buddies or even reading the morning news. Other families were starting arriving arm and arm, squealing about getting today’s sale. Quickly he grabs me back to reality by saying, “What do you want?” “Really, of all the places to eat you choose where you work?” I replied. “It’s free,” he said all proudly. “I’m sure it is,” I said sarcastically.
Meanwhile I’m sitting at our table watching our kids. Madaline, our 1 year old, playing with her hot cakes and Nicholas, our 4 year old, devouring his plain pancakes. I look to see where my husband is and he’s up at the counter giggling with a female co-worker, completely ignoring his
