Yesterday morning my daughter was half an hour late for school because I could barely drag myself out of bed. Once I’d dropped her off I sprawled listlessly on the living room sofa vaguely concerned about how I’d summon the energy to go collect my little love midafternoon. I also thought I had an appointment or something but hadn’t gotten any reminder calls so I shrugged it off.
When my husband came home for lunch, he told me I looked like crap and called in to work to say that he needed a few hours before he could get back to the ship. He brought me water, scarfed some food, and headed off to our daughter’s school to help with the Valentine’s Day cookie party. (Ooops—I knew there was something I was supposed to do!)
He brought our daughter back covered in frosting and probably with a cavity, changed back into his uniform and headed back to work. And when he came home from work he brought me more water and proceeded to fold the mountain of clean laundry I’d piled up.
Eight years ago, my husband surprised me with a classically romantic Valentine’s Day complete with jewelry, dinner, and tickets to the ballet yet it’s this Valentine’s Day that I’m utterly overwhelmed with his love and devotion.
“Love is the only gold.” ~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson