Cheer Up Breakfast

P doesn't go back to work until about a week and a half from now, but I don't go back until February.  My institution has a month-long intensive winter session, but I'm not teaching it this time around.  However, I am teaching a bunch of new stuff in the Spring and I have to take this "extra time off" to prepare.

All of that to say, for now, P and I still have mornings where we can sleep in.  He usually ends up putting an arm around me after which I'll smile and snuggle closer, but yesterday morning, I kind of wasn't feeling it.  Despite it being only Day 6 of the New Year, I was already feeling bogged down by upcoming interviews I felt woefully unprepared for, this Humanities seminar I have to prep that I feel insecure about, and would I be back next year?  And where are we going to live next year even if we stay here?  Because we're moving regardless, and how would a baby fit into all of this, and—

"Wanna go somewhere for breakfast?"

I immediately perked up.  Even if I'm not feeling it, I will never say no to breakfasting.  We raced to get ready and out the door so that we could make it to this awesome cafe in a nearby town before they stopped serving breakfast.

Over biscuits and gravy (him) and a frittata (me), I started trying to tell him that I thought he suggested breakfast because he could sense that—he finished my sentence for me, "I could tell you were feeling bad...I thought we could do something different this morning, I thought you would like it."

I just teared up.  He just wanted to cheer me up, so he suggested going to breakfast.  It was such a simple thing, but at the same time, such a deeply caring thing.  What made me cry was not that proposing going out for breakfast was some sort of grand, sweeping gesture, but that he was sensitive to how I was feeling and wanted to do something, however small, to make me feel better.