Xee and I don't make a fuss on Valentine's Day. We have always agreed that it is sadly, dripping with so much commercialism and pressure to buy something to show that special someone you love them. Not that there is anything wrong with buying a gift or celebrating this special holiday. In fact, as you all know, we have been quite involved with the traditions of Mr. Valentine this year. So in honor of this special day, this is dedicated to the one I love.When I look back to over ten years ago, I fondly remember one whirlwind of a romance. Falling hard and fast for a young man I had known for five years, as a mere acquaintance. The swelling in our hearts that both thrilled and scared us to death. The butterflies in my stomach and the absolute resolve that we were on the verge of something so much bigger than the both of us. It was magical.
We've been together now for nearly twelve years, married for almost ten. We have seen friends go through divorces, and we know just how blessed we are to not only still be together, but to have a marriage that thrives.
So I was thinkin' awhile back, about somethin'. What is romance? What does that mean? We are brought up with these romantic ideals. The princess awaits her prince...A knight in shining armor rescues a maiden and sweeps her off her feet...And then we have a few heart-breaks. We get wounded. We start to lose faith in that love. We wonder if it is even possible at all.
I know that not everyone has a story like ours. I feel so fortunate to have such sweet memories of that special time when we fell in love. We exchanged cards for no particular reason, left notes on each other's cars, stayed up talking till we fell asleep on the phone...you know how it goes. It was romantic.
All these years later, I have to tell you...we don't really talk much on the phone, and the butterflies are pretty rare. My definition of romance has evolved. Sure, I still love getting flowers for no occasion at all. We still like to surprise one another with a note here and there (though most likely, a grocery list gets inserted somewhere on the page). Those things are quite nice. But they are just things. And that leaves me back at the question, "What is romance?"
Without looking it up in a dictionary, or taking a survey, I think, for me anyway, I am going to stick to this simple definition. It is what one does to show love. That's it. We can get caught up in how we've been told it should look or feel, the way it looks on others, or how it seems to feel when we see it on a movie screen. But if we want to keep a spark kindled in our plain-old-regular lives, we better not miss what's right in front of us. Sparks are flying all around.
"What do I find romantic about Mr. Her?", you say. Well, while it would be fun to tease you all and say that he makes it a regular habit to massage my feet every night, bring me breakfast in bed, and leave chocolates on my pillow...let me just tell you the truth. He loves me.
He loves me. And I find it romantic that he gets up each day and heads to work, with us in the forefront of his mind, his true motivation for the workday. I find it awfully romantic that on his days off, he takes Phoebe along on his morning work-outs, so I can sleep in. Ah yes, very romantic indeed.
Is it romantic that he gets up with our child in the middle of the night, when she has had a bad dream? And when he takes her downstairs to sleep with him on the futon? Leaving the whole bed just for me? Oh yeah, que' romantica. And that one time (tonight actually), when I had a crazy, fluke accident in the kitchen, while preparing dinner, as I was cutting an insanely spicy chili and some flew up into my eye...and I was freaking out just a bit, he ran to my rescue and flushed out my eye and put his arm around my shoulder while I cried the spiciness away...now that was romantic!
He loves me.
And what I find most romantic is that he adores me most when I look and feel my worst. He chooses me. He chooses me to hang with in our jammies, to sit next to and watch TV. He chooses me when I'm grumpy. When I have bad days. He comes along side me when I struggle. He's at my side when I lay down at night, and when I awake in the morning.
He loves me.
So our romance has changed. There are now three of us in this love affair. As we go through our ups and downs, the ebbs and flows of this partnership, we fall deeper in love each and every year, and this is all punctuated by the fact that we are both so madly in love with someone else. I find that to be the most amazing part of all. I may not get butterflies often, but when our eyes meet in a moment of mutual adoration for that sweet girl of ours, I am truly head over heels.
THAT is magic.
He loves me.
I love him.
Don't forget the little things. Look closely...you may find them adding up to one whirlwind of a romance. Happy Valentine's Day!
