Sarah sleeps late on Saturday mornings, and these mornings have turned into a decadent time for Shane and I. We get up and dressed early and come down to sit on the stools at the breakfast table by the open window, morning air cooling our coffees too fast, and each work on our respective things — me on a novel or short story manuscript, he on a side-project app he’s developing for search and rescue teams.

We exchange lines and ideas with each other without looking up, whoever gets up first refills the coffee or puts the crumby bagel plates in the dishwasher. Sometimes he stops and kneads his sourdough starter on the counter. Sometimes I wander off and torment the dog or throw the cats in the air. But mostly we’re here at this table Saturday mornings, working on things that require patience and conviction and faith in foresight, because they won’t reap any tangible reward for months, maybe years, maybe not at all, but that remind us constantly about the nature and value of those things. No riskier a plan for retirement (and way more fun) than mutual funds.