The air smelled of cigarettes and breakfast grease as we entered the familiar diner. My damp hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. I wore smooth shimmery purple Burts Bees lipgloss. As Chad and I slid into a brown booth, I eyed the bowl of creamers and thought, "We're going to need more than that."
Eating breakfast out on the weekend is a tradition for us. Since Melody's arrival we've avoided our favorite diner due to the smokey environment. This mornng we left her with the grandmas (both are visiting) and relived our tradition of sharing a waffle, hashbrowns, and a spanish omelet.
It was easy to fall back into the groove of just us. We talked, observed, remembered, dreamed and hung out. We drove home with full stomachs and the windows down. It felt good.