The alarm goes off at five thirty in the morning, and the husband rises to the sound of nails scratching on the floor, scattering on the hardwood and running to the door. The dogs clatter downstairs, followed by the husband rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Cold brushes against his face as he opens the door to let them out, the Minnesota winter biting especially fiercely in late January. The husband calls out the dogs names as they run back inside, leaving paw print shaped puddles on the tiled floor. He walks to the coffee machine, switching it on and listening to its hum as it heats up, the high pitched whine similar to that of a motor boat puttering in lake water. 

Taking a little longer to rise from her slumber, the wife follows the husband downstairs and is met by the sound of the coffee grinder and the welcoming smell of coffee, preemptively jolting her system awake. Glass cups clink against each other as the husband takes them from the sugar cupboard, first pouring the espresso and then the foamed milk, the liquid gently swirling. The couple take their coffee from the kitchen to the living room, sitting with their morning media of choice while the dogs cuddle up next to them. Her nose just peeking out of the plush blanket next to the wife, the youngest dog dozes. Ten years her senior, the older dog rests in his traditional grouchy manner, curled up on the floor by the husband. On an orange loveseat close to the window, the husband sits with his cappuccino and iPad, reading the morning news and sipping espresso. The foam bubbles quietly popping as the cup is drained. His wife writes in her journal, a thin lined notebook yet somehow she never runs out of pages. It is six in the morning, the beginning of their day. 

At six thirty, they ready themselves in winter gear to take their furry companions on a walk. The husband often jokes to their friends that his wife is a cold blooded reptile, referring to her intolerance to the cold as she dons a long sleeve, sweater, puffer jacket and shell layer. Yet, it’s always told in an adoring manner, how someone describes an intricacy that you would only know by spending copious amounts of time with another, and the look in her eyes when she watches him talk says that she knows this. They don their coats and leash their mutts, stepping out of their brightly lit home where their daughters still sleep and into the winter landscape. Their boots crunch in the snow, the sound mingling with their conversation. “Can you pick up Maddie from her volleyball practice tonight? I have a last minute appointment” she says. “Yup, I’ll grab Penelope from her mock trial practice on the way” he replies. The dogs trot complacently next to them, pausing to sniff an interesting tree then jogging to catch up. 

They walk around the lake near their home, sharing the moments before dawn discussing the week, the day, and anything else that comes to mind. Despite the frigid terrain, it sets the scene for the valuable time that the couple spend together. As not parents, but simply a couple. Raising three girls together is a full time job, one that doesn’t allow for much free time. So, they’ve created this routine, practicing it every day in their many years of marriage, sharing the first few hours of a new day with their best friend. Each other.