I tugged at her knee when I saw the sign that said, Welcome to Canada, and slowed as we approached the border. Crossing the line without incident, I continued on my mission to fulfill my wife’s craving for some exotic food that she could not find in the States. Vancouver was not too far and we would be there before the sunrise.
The road into Canada was crowded with large trucks and I hated to be stuck behind one. It was like driving in the face large fan blades as their massive tires kicked up snow in their wake. As soon as there was an opening, I moved ahead, leaving them behind.
In the clear, I started to look for our destination, passing large billboards one after another. Wonder what kind of person had the job of putting those up and if they liked it served as a passing though. I surmised that kind of job would really suck.
“There!” Katherine said as she pointed to the right, excited at the prospect of food.
After taking the exit as directed by the large billboard and helping Katherine out of the car, we were pleased to find the place open.
“See I told you it would be open,” She said as she stopped her feet on the pavement, shucking any snow caught on her boots.
“Yeah, let’s eat, I’m hungry too, so what did we come all this way for?” I asked as we sat down.
“Bacon,” Katherine said.
“Bacon or sort of Bacon?”
“Why Canadian bacon, silly,” Katherine smiled, giggling.
I shook my head and sighed—smiling at her amusement. The things we do for love.
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