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When my husband and I celebrated our 38th wedding anniversary at our favorite restaurant, Lenny, the piano player, asked, "How did you do it?"
I knew there was no simple answer, but as the weekend approached, I wondered if one reason might be our ritual of breakfast in bed every Saturday and Sunday.
It all started with the breakfast tray my mother gave us as a wedding gift. It had a glass top and slatted wooden side pockets for the morning paper e kind you used to see in the movies. Mother loved her movies, and although she rarely had breakfast in bed, she held high hopes for her daughter. My adoring bridegroom took the message to heart.
Feeling guilty, I suggested we take turns. Despite grumblings -- "hate crumbs in my bed" ---Sunday morning found my spouse eagerly awaiting his tray. Soon these weekend breakfasts became such a part of our lives that I never even thought about them. I only knew we treasured this separate, blissful time read, relax, forget the things we should remember.
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