You cannot cross the same river

Two years.


We decided that we should take a break and do things we used to do before Z came along.

So I made dinner reservations at Akanoya.

And we arranged for PL’s mum to baby sit Z while we had our anniversary dinner.

Akanoya was still lively and fun. Still good.

But we thought the Omi-gyu (beef cubes) were okay, but not spectacular like we remembered.

The onions were done differently. It was good, but not how we remembered either.

The pork was not as tender or tasty as I remembered.

We tried the chicken skewers and it was good, and we ordered a second round. But usually, we would order another round of the omi-gyu.

The sweet potato, and yaki onigiri (grilled rice ball) was as good as we remembered. PL liked the corn (it was really sweet), And everything was good and nice. But, somehow, not quite the same.

Not as we remembered.

In the cab on our way to pick Z up from PL’s mum’s place, I realised that every time we tried something new, we liked it. But when we returned and try to order it again, it’s not as we remembered.

There is a moral in there somewhere.

The highlight of our evening was Z. Beaming her smile at PL, happy to see her mother.

And me.

She didn’t forget me.

PL and I have moved on and Z is the highlight of our lives now. Sure we can take a break and go to Akanoya. But now it seems more like we are doing Akanoya a favour, rather than enjoying ourselves.

Well, we did enjoy ourselves, but we would probably be happier spending the evening with Z.

Of course we should not let our world revolve around Z, but it does.

And I do appreciate that PL also realises that and made the effort for us to have some “couple time’.

But maybe it is too early. We are not frazzled enough as parents to need the break from the  kids. Or kid in our case.

Maybe in a couple of years.

Then again, maybe not. But maybe we’ll see then.

For now, it occurred to me that we have moved on in our lives. And what used to give us pleasure, now takes us away from that which gives us joy. Zoe.

And you cannot cross the same river. The waters have flowed, the river you cross may look the same, but it is a different river in time.

This entry was posted in Food, Life Lessons, Musing, Personal. Bookmark the permalink.

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