One Saturday Morning

A kiss alights on my cheek. It's feathery light. It's not the first one that's landed there in the last little while, but it is the first that I haven't mistaken as being part of my dream. Opening my eyes slowly, I smile up at the handsome young man that's leaning over me. God, but those ice blue eyes are deep enough to get lost in. He smiles back at me as he leans in to kiss me again.

"Mmm... Trev... you even taste good... even in the morning!" I joke.

"And you, Jos, are simply good enough to eat."

"Mmmmm" I sigh happily, "what is for breakfast, anyway?"

"You and your food! Do you ever think of anything else? No, wait! I take it back, I know you think of something else!" Trevor laughs at me, and favours me with another sweet kiss on my lips. "There's pancakes and bacon waiting down in the kitchen. You aren't going to make me eat it all alone are you?"

"Heavens, no." I get out of bed and pad downstairs holding his hand all the way. He knows I love pancakes, especially when flavoured so nicely with his company.

Trevor and I have been a pair for nearly 5 years now. It likely sounds sappy, but we're still as much in lust and in love for each other as the first second we laid eyes on each other. His blondish-brown hair and sparkling blue eyes bring sunlight to my life, and give me the desire to see each day anew. I can’t see how I ever managed to survive before him, and I don’t think I’ll ever want to live life without him.

We actually had met over breakfast on a far distant Saturday morning. It was about 10am that day, and I was more than a little hung over. Three solid days of vodka, rye, beer and shooters will do that to a person, though. You see, on that Tuesday evening, I had caught my boyfriend with another man, in my own bed, and once I’d yelled at him and kicked them both out, I’d sought some solace at the bottom of a few bottles.

In any case, I’d been sitting at the bar of a local greasy-spoon diner, nursing my headache with a cup of coffee, when Trevor had come over and sat beside me. He’d looked a bit like an angel, silhouetted as he was by the bright morning sunshine coming in through the diner windows. Just looking at him I felt a bit better, and couldn’t help but wonder if I’d ever have a chance with him.

“You don’t look so well, mate. Are you alright?” he’d intoned softly. I learned later that he had figured out that I had a rotten headache, and didn’t want to bother it and ruin his chances on getting to know me.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I think I might have overdone it a bit is all. “ I tried to smile and laugh it off. But as we sat there and had our breakfasts, I’d ended up ordering some pancakes and bacon just to have an excuse to sit longer and talk with him, he soon had the whole sordid story out of me. We left the diner together, chatting away like old friends, and before I knew what was happening, we were seeing each other. Within 8 months, we’d found a house we could both enjoy, one that didn’t have any clinging memories of the past in it for either of us, and moved in together.

Sitting at the table now, and demolishing the stack of pancakes he had made for our traditional Saturday breakfast together, I start to think about all of the great things we can do this weekend. It’s just nicely turned summer in our little bit of Canada, so the lakes are warm and perfect for swimming, the stores are in full stock for “tourist season”, and the parks have been painstakingly trimmed in celebration of Canada Day tomorrow. The question isn’t what to do, but rather what to do first.

As all of this runs through my mind, I look over lovingly and notice Trevor licking at a drip of syrup from his baby finger. I am struck by his sensuality at even this simple act. Feeling my gaze upon him, he looks up at me, finger still at his lips, which even now curve in a slight smile.

Breakfast over; we stand at the sink to tidy up the dishes before we leave for the day. Through the week, household chores take on a feeling of necessity; but on weekends, with the task being shared side-by-side, even dishes can become a deep conversation of love, without a word ever being spoken. Shoulder to shoulder, plates and forks alike are cleaned of food, dried and set aside, while now and again we fleetingly look outside at the dogs chasing butterflies in the backyard. Dogs… hmm… funny how true commitment always seems to be shown by getting a pet… or three.

Clean up finished, we dress in comfortable jean shorts and t-shirts, and head out the door. Love is truly a beautiful thing, and especially wonderful since it can appear in even the smallest acts. The week may be spent to help others, make a living, and in the thousand other commitments life brings; but the weekends we devote to each other. Life, and love, must be shared to be appreciated.