I was 38 when I met my husband.
Up till then, books and movies taught me that romance was flowers and chocolates, expensive gifts and candlelit dinners. I thought sensuality was satin dresses slowly slipping down a woman’s body, and passion meant a man’s tailored button up shirt with the buttons scattered all over the floor. I thought love was expressed with grand gestures: a boombox held over a head outside of a window; a handsome man on a white horse; a fierce protector fighting to defend a woman’s honor.
My husband taught me better.
In our nearly 4 years together, he’s bought me a single rose…a rose which has dried and withered but remains cherished and displayed on my nightstand to remind me of a morning early in our relationship when I was tired and achy after a long day of work when he rushed out to the grocery store before I awoke to get me pastries and Cuban coffee…and a rose.
In our nearly 4 years together, we’ve gone out to eat at a very fancy restaurant twice. The first time was an unexpected surprise as we entered what we thought was a mom-and-pop Italian shop only to find ourselves terribly under dressed. We ordered a bottle of their sweetest wine and made the best of a fabulous dinner in jeans and basketball shorts. We returned a year later to celebrate our anniversary – in heels and slacks.
I’ve learned that sensuality is often a gaze that screams “I LOVE YOU” while our lips are too busy to utter the words, and passion is ratty pajamas clumsily discarded and tripped over on the side of a messy, well-slept in bed.
And I’ve learned that love is so much more complicated and simpler than any book or movie could ever capture.
Love is a first kiss, punctuated by an exclamation of “Woah.”
Love is a second date, where his deep brown eyes whisper the three words that his lips wouldn’t dare, and where she allowed her thoughts to wander to the children they might share one day.
Love is a casual marriage proposal in the freezer section of the local grocery store two weeks later.
It is fun, and new, and exciting.
And with time, love grows and changes.
Love becomes plans for a future where you name your children after loved ones and mutually agree on shared goals for your family.
Love becomes hugs on terrible workdays, massages on aching backs and feet, and endless support and encouragement on creative writing and event planning courses.
Love becomes a fancy key with the word “Home” on it that welcomes the person into another place in your life. Love becomes two toothbrushes, side-by-side, and toilet seats left up, and dresser drawers that you bruise your knee on because they are always left open. But love also means a second pair of eyes to find that cell phone you’re always losing; a better, skilled mind to fix that computer glitch you could never figure out; and someone to laugh with at 3 in the morning when neither of you can sleep.
Nearly 4 years in, and our love continues to evolve in new and ever profound ways that I could have never imagined or expected. Painfully beautiful ways that have been etched into my heart.
These days, love means being held tight and being told I’m beautiful and strong and amazing when I’m breaking down and absolutely dissolving into ugly tears.
Love means watching your husband caress your dying father’s arm and cover him with a blanket as his weak body shivers with cold. Love is him preparing food for you to make sure you eat at your father’s bedside, refilling your water to make sure you stay hydrated, and asking if you've taken you're daily vitamins. Love is leaving him to watch over your father so that you can grab an hour or two of sleep and, more importantly, love is watching him hold your father’s hand and repeat prayers of a faith he doesn’t practice to bring your father a sense of peace.
Yesterday, love meant being held tightly in his arms as some of our dreams were ripped away. Feeling the strength in his arms as tears formed in his eyes – feeling the warmth and support in his embrace at the same time that he was fighting his own fears and heartache.
Today, love means him sitting by your side, although he is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Love means that he won’t leave you alone, even though he has open wounds to tend to today. Love means that, even though you are not in a position to tend to his needs today, he is understanding and forgiving, and continues to love you anyway.
At 38 years old, I thought I knew what love was, but I was so happily mistaken, because now at 41, what I’ve found with my Angel is so very much better. It is beauty and grace in the harshest and ugliest of moments. It is warmth and kindness and tenderness. It is a gentle touch and a strong embrace. It is the epitome of what our souls are capable of in its truest form.
The love I've found in him beats the movies and books of my youth any day.
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