a hot humid sunday, early afternoon.
We had been invited to brunch by a friend of yours. It was supposed to be a pretty big function, but everyone else couldn't make it. So it was just the two of us and the two of them and their new baby.
We had never been to their place before and didn't know what to expect. They were both chefs and we were under strict instructions not to bring anything except a couple bottles of proseco.
Off we went on our bikes, just barely beating the downpour as we finally found there apartment.
It was a cozy little place with a tiny kitchen, and open living and bedrooms only separated by pocket doors. Their little one crawling all over the hardwood, enjoying himself. An idyllic art deco
picture in a more moden age.
The aromas were amazing. Caramelized onion quiche and maple glazed bacon. With a hardy spinach salad on the side. The food was simple but oh so good. And the free flowing mimosas didn't hurt.
The company wasn't bad either. Getting to know these new friends. Playing all afternoon with their son.
Talking and sharing, it was fun and nice. Nice to meet some of your friends for a change. To spend time in your world with you.
Afterwards, days later, you told me that you talked to them. They had received the small thank you gifts I sent them.
In a rare moment of pride, you said that your fiend had thought I was great and you were so lucky because she thought I would make a great father.
It was the first time you ever mentioned the thought of you and I and children. I still remember the look on your face.
It was happiness.
Contentedness.
And it was pride.
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