In 6th grade, I loved walking the long block up the hill from my grandparents’ house to that shining beacon –K-Mart! – to spend my babysitting money. I always made sure to have at least a quarter left over to spend in the toy vending machines.
My favorite was the “Love Is” machine, filled with mini posters of the comic that was especially popular in the 80’s. I lined my dresser mirror with their smiling faces and dreamed of having a love like that of my own someday. I was sure that life would be flowers, and chocolates, and long walks in the moonlight. *Insert happy sigh*
Fast forward 30 years or so.
I AM happily married, but as we all find out, life is rarely filled with those moments we grew up reading about or watching in movies. While there WAS a short time that Tom routinely sent me
dead flowers, most of our life together has been more of the day-to-day slog with kids, careers, blah, blah, blah.
In other words, REAL LIFE. And honestly, I’d rather have a plate of nachos than chocolates, and if we were to take a walk under the stars either his knee would give out or I’d manage to roll my ankle. Let’s just say that sometimes those romantic dreams seem very far away.
It took many years of marriage for me to realize that Tom IS a romantic – just in his own way. Instead of chocolates I get oil changes, tire rotations, or a quick neck massage, even though his hard-working mechanic hands ache after a long day fighting cars.
This morning, though, he grandly swept me off my feet all over again.
Yesterday, our coffeemaker was plugging up, so I ran vinegar through to de-scale the junk and let it soak overnight. This morning I woke up early so I could run water through to clean out the vinegar and still have time to make my much-needed coffee. I am ridiculously addicted to the Haitian coffee I discovered on my trip last summer, and it’s the only kind I’ve ever found that doesn’t make me sick. Anyway, the stupid machine wasn’t working. No matter what I tried, nothing would come out. ARGGHH!
Finally I gave up and went to get ready for work. We had some generic tea-bag like “coffee singles,” so Tom made one of those for himself while I stomped around the bathroom, muttering under my breath.
“I can make you some coffee,” he offered.
“I’m fine,” I snarled. “Yours will just make me sick. I’ll just suffer.”
Stomp. Stomp. Slam!
In the midst of my stomping and slamming, I managed to knock the curling iron off the counter onto the top of my bare foot. Swearing like a sailor, I wrestled it back into place, but not before inflicting a good size blistering burn.
In the meantime, Tom high-tailed it out of the room – the chicken!
When I finally emerged, he stood there with a travel mug full of MY coffee, ready to go. He had opened and emptied one of his coffee bags, filled it with mine, wrapped the string around like a noose and nuked it, all just for me! There were LOTS of floating grounds, but it was just what I needed to get my day back on track. Well, until I spilled half of it down my front while climbing into the truck, but that’s another story.
Love is definitely my guy and a cup of chunky coffee… 🙂