I’m so thankful.
While we were having dinner I managed to get a spot of ketchup from my burger on the collar of my favorite sweater.
(I’m not a very neat eater, no. Let’s not dwell.)
My husband noticed. I did not.
He got up and stood next to me and took care of it. Nothing extraordinary. He just cleaned it up before it could stain because he knows I love the sweater and it’s new.
He knew I’d be mad at myself for ruining it and he wanted to help.
While he was blotting at it, I just looked up at his face.
I was mesmerized.
Here was this intelligent, funny, kind, good looking man just taking care of me for no other reason than because he can.
Because he wanted to.
And I was so grateful.
Not because of the ketchup. I mean, yay for no stain, thanks, but I was overwhelmed at the simple act of attention and care.
The little things, right?
Those are what count.
It was nothing to him, but to me it was a statement that I matter. That what is important to me matters to him, regardless of how insignificant it might seem to anyone else.
After sixteen years of crazy ups and downs, years often spent focusing on our kids and parenting instead of each other, I fell in love with my husband just a little bit more, again, tonight over ketchup.
As I stared up at him, I saw a glimpse of our life beyond raising children. The future that holds our moments with the just the two of us looks pretty wonderful.
And I’m grateful.
For the perspective. For that quiet moment of kindness. For his unconditional love.
(And for my sloppy eating, for once. I mean because , without that, this is just a dumb story about a girl eating a burger next to a hot guy.)