everyday love
February 15, 2013 § 11 Comments
Yesterday I lost myself in other’s expectations. Not one for dramatic gestures or extravagant gifts, I am content with handmade cards and thoughtful acts of kindness. Still, for a moment, I allowed myself to measure my husband’s affection against other’s expressions.
I recognized my own irrational behavior, but could not seem to shake my mood. My husband could have been angry or irritated, instead he accommodated my sudden inexplicable need for reassurance and sought out a traditional hallmark of the holiday; a large, heart-shaped box of chocolates. The generous act of sifting through last minute shoppers and picked over candies was not lost on me.
This morning racing thorough mindless motions before taking my daughter to school I snagged the fabric of my bulky winter coat in the teeth of its zipper. Without hesitation I presented myself hands full and zipper stuck for help. My husband, busy brushing his teeth and aware I was in a hurry stopped to lend a hand. Without words I reached for his toothbrush and he reached for my coat. It is the dance of a couple well acquainted with one another; seamlessly we predict the other’s movement, substituting our own for theirs to maintain balance.
This dance of everyday love is so much greater a gift than chocolates. Simple and undramatic, sometimes silly and always sweet these little things are everything, every day.
scribblechic 
Well said 🙂
Thanks!
One of my mantras is to measure…anything…by what is done, not by what is said. Looks like you & H are in the same place. Those many, many gentle little gestures and responses matter so very much than the ‘grand’ ones.
The little things leave a great emptiness when they are missing. The big things sometimes suffocate our perspective.
everyday love is what truly matters.
Agreed!
Beautiful, and so on point.
Thank you!
Wonderfully tender with a touch of transparency, it gave my eyes a picture.
Thank you. While I was entirely smitten by my husband’s last minute shopping effort, the reassuring familiarity of him disentangling me from my own clumsiness was so much more endearing than a cardboard box of chocolates.
Absolutely!