A Short Story About Love

I have written and re-written a novel’s-worth of posts about love and Valentine's day over the past week or so. The truth is, I’ve been PMS-ing and MS-ing and I’ve been pretty hormonal and emotional lately, too. In fact, last week I had so many emotions riding on the surface, that instead of taking something as a joke, I took offense and picked a fight. Since we tend to fight dirty on the occasions that we *do* fight, it got pretty ugly. And this time, the resentful feelings after lasted for a few days. We’re still in the “bring up all past transgressions” mode when we get into arguments. And while we both know in our hearts that bringing up past topics is counter-productive (especially if we’ve both professed to forgive, forget, and move on), sometimes that low blow just happens.

But this isn’t a post about fighting clean or fighting dirty. This is meant to be a post about love. But you can’t get to the sunshine or appreciate the beautiful days if there are never any storms.

So. Valentine’s Day, huh? My romantic self really loves having a big deal made over it. I love getting flowers, and really love it if they come to work. I love the clichés and all that… Stuff. My practical side realizes that it is insane to spend three times the cost of a dozen roses just to receive them on one particular day when it’s not the flowers per se that show love or show that someone thinks you are special. True love is expressed in many different ways and is shown on a daily basis, not necessarily with flowers. But flowers delivered to work every now and then isn’t a *bad* thing. ;-)

But Dr Pop shows his love for me in so many different ways and I just want him to know that I recognize them and appreciate them immensely. For example, for the first year and a half of our son’s life, he got up every morning and went to a job he despised and worked his ass off so that I could stay home with our son. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is! About three weeks ago, when I felt like I was dying with a stomach virus and lying passed out on the bathroom floor because I couldn’t make it to the bed, he picked me up and helped me into bed and brought me a trash can so that I wouldn’t have to get up any more. Love. He constantly puts up with my family’s interference in our lives. Love. He watches Little Pop when I really need a nap. Love. He wants me to have whatever I want. Love. If someone gives me a hard time or is mean, he immediately jumps to my defense. Love.

All of this is to say that I don’t need a Valentine’s Day dinner or two dozen roses sent to work to make me happy and feel loved and cherished. While the big romantic gestures are sweet and nice, they are not indicative of the love someone feels. It’s the daily work in the trenches, the work that generally goes unnoticed and unappreciated, that show love. Getting up every day to support a family. Making dinner. Remembering to thaw out something from the freezer. Letting one person get much-needed rest. Forgiving mistakes and errors in judgment. Not making someone pay any more than they already have for their transgressions. Being able to sit together on the couch and watch our favorite shows. Foot rubs. Back rubs. Pet names. Weekend breakfasts. Keeping it together when the other one is sick. Putting up with minor annoyances. Gentle and not-so-gentle reminders about things we need to do.

And finally, I just want to tell Dr Pop that I appreciate you, I think you’re a sexy beast, and I know you always strive to do the right things by me and by us. I love you!