This morning I got up and showered, much like any other morning. I put on my clothes, re-combed my hair since my shirt ruffled it, and came downstairs to make coffee. Looking at the clock, I decided against making coffee and started preparing things for my wife who was still upstairs in her pre-shower routines. I assembled a small container for her lunch containing some lamb roast, a little cheese, and two slices of sourdough bread, then set a container of her spicy tomato soup atop it.
Noticing the clock again, I realized I had time to kill as she hadn't even turned the water on yet. I popped open the cabinet and saw two English muffins. A few moments of deliberation later, I decided that I'd go ahead and make some eggs and enjoy a tasty breakfast sandwich and just catch coffee once I got to work (since I keep my espresso machine within arm's reach). Seeing the opportunity, I decided to also make my wife breakfast to perhaps help quell the morning hunger she seems to suffer from so often as we commute together.
In the next few minutes, I had preheated a pan, applied a small amount of butter to the just-sliced surfaces of the remaining English muffins, gathered some eggs and cheese from the refrigerator, and gotten myself ready for the flash-cook of the eggs that gives them the great texture we like our sandwiches. The english muffins went into the toaster oven on low broil, and in a flash the three eggs were in the pan, sizzling as their whites began to cook as the yolks sat neatly atop them. A few seconds later the separation of the colors in the pan was no more, and furious mixing of the parts yielded a pale yellow concoction that initially stuck to the pan, but as it cooked a little more worked itself loose as I rolled the quickly-firming eggs around the pan with the spatula.
As the eggs neared their perfection, I split the mass in two, roughly shaping each to imitate the English muffins that they would soon join. I laid a bit of Lorraine Swiss on each mass, and moved them to a cool surface to stymy the cooking process while allowing the cheese to melt into the folded crevices of the eggs. I retrieved the now-warm breads, and dropped them buttered-side down into the same pan and pressed firmly for a few seconds as the butter toasted into a delicious and beautiful golden brown that would give a slight crunch when bitten. At last, the eggs and melted cheese were merged with the muffins and breakfast was ready.
But where was she? Ahh! Only just stepping out of the shower. No bother: I wrapped hers in a paper towel and then plastic wrap and sat it now with what would be her lunch. Looking longingly at my own sandwich, I knew I had time to savor it as she would be dressing for several more minutes. Unsurprisingly, I did finish my breakfast before she came down, but rather than pressure her into moving out of the door I prompted her to go ahead and enjoy her sandwich while it was still hot (never mind the wasted plastic wrap--there are worse things in life).
From there, we drove to work, parted ways in the cold morning sun, and our days began in earnest. Except the most important part of my day--the one where I expressed my love through service--had already come and gone. Of course, that didn't mean I couldn't or wouldn't do more, but I looked back on the morning as she drive on from my office to hers and felt a contentment that usually doesn't exist that early in the day.