Off and on for the past year or two, the group of girls I hang out with have had a regular weekly coffee date at Wayne’s Coffee in Skellefteå. At first Thursday was the appointed day, then, as schedules changed, it was Friday. For quite a while I missed as many (or more) get-togethers as I made it to, because I didn’t have a driver’s license and I prefer not to take the bus (a round-trip to town costs about ten bucks and, worse, I get carsick). Still, I went when I could (meaning “when I could talk Olof into chauffering me around”), and I quickly developed a vanilla-latte dependency.

We sort of got out of the meet-up habit in recent months. First I had a baby, then the other girls’ school and work schedules didn’t mesh as well as they once had, then someone else had a baby, and it all added up to precious few lattes. This drought eventually took its toll, and after a hiatus of at least two months, we finally got our acts together last week and made it out to the same place at the same time. The coffee was as good as we remembered, and we resolved that Monday would be our new regular day.

This last Monday, Debbie, Helena, Johanna, and I had set up camp in a corner booth. Once coats, bags, my stroller, and a highchair for Petra were factored in, our little space was filled to overflowing. After a little while a group of girls–late teens or early twenties, I’d say–squeezed in at the table next to ours. Not long after they sat down, one of them leaned across the table and tried to get our attention. I thought she said, “Excuse me,” but I wasn’t sure, so I asked, “Ursäkta?”

She looked surprised, then asked, in Swedish, “Do you speak Swedish?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said, continuing in Swedish.

“But why are you speaking English?”

My friends and I just looked bemusedly at one another for a moment. Finally I offered, “Because we’re Americans.”

That wasn’t enough for the Swedish girl. “But why are you here?” Again I hesitated a bit before answering, and she blurted out, “I just have to know!”

I shrugged lightly and said, “We’re married to Swedish guys.”

“Ahhh …” she answered. She gave a little self-deprecating smile and said, “I just had to know.” Then she turned her attention back to her own friends, apparently satisfied.

We got a few good laughs out of that, especially when Debbie said she had first interpreted the “Why are you here?” to mean “Why are you here, at this café?” How much better would it have been to have answered, “Because we like coffee,” instead of bringing the Swedish husbands into it? I’m still kicking myself over that one.

It’s been so much fun getting back into the weekly coffee routine that I jumped at the chance when Debbie called me this morning and asked if I was up for an impromptu meet-up with her and Melanie. Even though I had to take two kids with me and could stay only an hour, it was a good time. Starting up again was definitely a good idea, but maybe we need to reconsider some things . . . I don’t think once a week is nearly enough.