Our Thing

It’s Saturday morning, 10am. The sun is shining and it’s 70°F outside. Of the million awesome things I could be doing on this beautiful fall day in the Pacific Northwest, I’ve chosen to push a shopping cart around the inside of a grocery store with my wife.

Normally, we’d be out riding bikes on some remote farm road. Or jogging through a local park. Or hiking up a scenic mountain trail. I’d be advising her to drink more fluids and she’d be looking for a good place to stop and take pictures. We’d be talking about our amazing kids and laughing about life and possibly singing some excellent songs from the 80s. Our shirts would be sweaty and we’d probably be winded from trying to keep up with each other. However crazy the particular adventure, Saturday mornings have always been about spending time doing something we love together. It’s kinda our thing.

Then, in early September, my wife tore her hamstring while wakesurfing. The doctors told her she’ll be on crutches until next spring and that she might need surgery to ensure everything heals correctly. This means no biking, or jogging, or hiking. For months. Right now, she can barely put on her own socks and shoes.

For the past few weekends, then, we’ve gone our separate ways. She’s stayed home to grapple with footwear while I braved the trails alone. And it’s been awful. As it turns out, my favorite part about our Saturday morning adventures is her.

So today, we’re wandering around Safeway. I’m in charge of piling things into our cart while she serpentines between the aisles on an electric scooter. We’re talking about our amazing kids and sampling fruit and listening to some really terrible background music. We’re both wearing our Seahawks jerseys and are winded from laughing about the craziness of life. Saturday mornings are about spending time doing something we love: being together.

It’s kinda our thing.