Since I'm always writing about the struggles and heartbreak of Moving Beyond Divorce, this morning I'm writing about breakfast instead.

Breakfast with two of my best gal friends.

Picture this: I'm sitting at the bar that is open to the kitchen. Almost immediately, if not before, Lori is across from me making a drink of orange juice and wine. (We were out of champagne and we live in a blue law state — you know, you get "blue" 'cause you can't buy liquor or wine on Sunday.)

She adds something to sweeten the drinks, throws in a couple of fresh strawberries, and we're set.

Kim, the chef extraordinaire, is doing a whole lot of chopping. Looks like fresh spinach, and I see some baby yellow squash, some red and yellow peppers. And there are some diced potatoes and something I honestly do not recognize.

The greens and vegetables have water beads on them, as Kim has just carefully and gently rinsed the produce she bought just this morning from the market. And I know that because she called me from the checkout counter while I was driving into Nashville, where she and Lori live.

The smells are beginning to lift into the air and across the bar. I smell it all, and it smells like heaven.

The wine did its job, and we have moved onto Grey Goose. It's Sunday and it's finally past noon, so we decide to take it up a notch.

Then the food is served. Kim does it all, the shopping, the chopping, the cooking, and the serving. She puts the food on our plates with careful balance. She makes certain we each have more than enough, and then she puts our plates on the bar.

She serves us.

Women will serve each other. Men seldom do, if ever. My guess is that most of you reading this were not served by your exes.

We eat, and I salivate. The spinach, egg & feta dish is absolutely exquisite. The potatoes with squash are unique and delicious. The few strips of bacon on my plate suddenly become pale and meaningless. Like my divorce.

Why concentrate on something lifeless when there are fresh greens and cheeses and wines to be enjoyed. I surrender to this morning with complete abandonment. I barely remember ever feeling sad.