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The Last Time

We don’t, I think, have many ‘last times’ when we actually know they are the last time. That’s probably a good thing; our hearts might not be able to take it if we did.
Every Friday morning for the last twelve years I’ve taken my boys out for breakfast during the school year. We’d tell stories, joke with each other and sometimes even talk about serious things. It became more difficult as they grew into different schools with varied start times and we had to split the breakfasts into two shifts. Sometimes we’d go to McDonalds. Tim Hortons was a favourite for a while but lately we’ve settled on A&W, mostly because it’s David’s favourite and Rosa always remembers our order and smiles.

For the first long while I had all of them. Lately, though, they’ve done what children do and have grown up. First one was gone and graduated, then the next and the one after him and finally the last one is about to graduate high school. At the time, the breakfasts just seemed ordinary and something we did because we always did it. But now, with the ‘last time’ come and gone I realize it was far more than ordinary and I know I’ll miss them. I suppose we’ll still do it once in a while but I know that schedules and busier lives get in the way of such things.

I enjoyed our ‘last time’, but frankly, I wish it hadn’t come so soon.

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