Love Is A Many Splendored Somethings

I've been married for nearly 32 years, and in all those years we've rarely made a fuss over Valentine's Day. Other than for hubs to proclaim it a made up holiday but yeah besides that, not a big deal. We almost always plan dinner at home that evening, and in recent years we've begun a tradition of sorts, where we find a new recipe and enjoy a very relaxed evening cooking together. We usually have music playing, and will stop now and then for a slow dance in the kitchen on this non-holiday holiday.

This year though, we're living in a new town and decided to book a table for Saturday night at a place we'd never been. Hubs was out of town all week, so we thought dressing up and going out would be fun. A date if you will.

Hubs got home late Thursday evening, and worked from home on Friday. He went out to run an errand mid day and you cannot imagine my surprise when he returned bearing gifts. Flowers, chocolates, and y'all the biggest, bestest, balloon in the universe.

I cannot describe how happy this balloon makes me. My face hurts from smiling. It's so over the top in size and sentiment and everything, and I love it more than words can say. I think more than the flowers or the chocolates because how can you not? I mean it's ginormous.

Sometimes that's what married love looks like.

Big giant gestures and grand declarations.

Saturday morning we had plans to meet our builder and his wife for breakfast, followed by a trip out to the lot to assess progress. We got up and I made coffee and hubs suddenly teetered and said, "whoa I'm dizzy...let me sit down for just a minute"...and I recognized from recent personal experience that wobbly posture and pale face which told me he'd succomed to whatever delightful bug I endured a couple weeks before. My husband, who honestly has been sick about three days in the 30+ years I've know him, was sick. On Valentine's Day. The non-holiday we'd for some reason decided this year to make a holiday.

He's a trooper so he showered and got dressed, and even went so far as to put his coat on before admitting defeat and heading for the couch. He told me to go on to breakfast so I did, and it was lovely. I neglected to ask the builder any of the questions on our list because we got to talking about all manner of other things completely unrelated to building our house, and when I came home hubs wanted to ask me what the builder said about windows and walls and stone, but by then was feeling too puny to care.

I said I'd go ahead and cancel our dinner plans, but he said no let's wait, that maybe he'd feel like going. Right. Since I'd been there done that a week ago, I knew it was wishful thinking on his part, so I cancelled. Happily too I want to add.

I went back to the market and purchased essentials-ginger ale, chicken soup, and rainbow sherbet. I covered him gently with a blanket and let him sleep on the couch with all the lights off and the blinds shut tight even though we're in a 'cozy' apartment which means the living room is pretty much the only place to hang out.

Because sometimes that's what married love looks like.
Dare I say most of the time, that's what married love looks like?

Small acts of caring every single day.

Serving up Tylenol instead of champagne.

Making plans and changing plans.

Giving and taking.

Roses and chicken soup.

Chocolate and a blanket on the couch.

A big balloon that makes your heart do loop-de-loops.

You tie it to a kitchen chair and let its message follow you around. Words you already knew were true, but that when splashed across an unexpected heart shaped piece of mylar feel fresh and new.

You are loved.

For better or worse.

In sickness and in health.

Today.

Tomorrow.

And forever.