And no, I am not talking about Richard Armitage. My husband Benny and I have been together for more than 27 years now. It really has been a case of “for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health.”
No matter what, he was, and is, and always will be my sweetheart, my best friend, my soul mate.
Today is Valentine’s Day, which we observe with cards and small gifts. It’s not a big deal for us. As I said, he’s my sweetheart and I am his, and we try to show that to each other throughout the year.
Every morning before he leaves for work, I get a sweet kiss and an “I love you,” always a good way to start one’s day. I know a kiss and a warm embrace will be mine when he returns home.
On an early summer’s evening, I might find myself the recipient of wild roses he has stopped and picked from the roadside on the way home. In many ways those ruffled pink blooms are more beautiful than the most elegant florist’s creation.
He definitely spoils me, but not by lavishing me with big, expensive gifts. It’s not just that we can’t afford them; it’s simply not the way he operates, and that’s fine by me. Better the small, thoughtful gestures throughout the year than 364 days of being ignored, taken for granted or ill-treated with an attempt to make up for it all on the 365th.
The other night, I asked him if he wanted to split the last slice of rum cake. “No, I left that for you. Because you like it so much.” He smiled indulgently, adding in a sweet, teasing tone, “Because I love you.” It’s a good man who’ll give up the last slice of moist, fragrant, delicious rum cake.
I battle a chronic health condition that leaves me feeling pretty rotten more often than I care to say. This week, he came home from work to find me shivering beneath the covers, aching all over and unable to get warm.
“Well, no wonder, you’ve pulled things loose from the foot of the bed and you’re getting drafts, you whirling dervish,” he said, gently chiding me. Pulling off the quilt and comforter and throw, he carefully re-arranged everything, tucking in the covers even as he playfully threw them over my head. “Not dead yet,” he said cheerily, quoting from one of our favorite movies, “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.”
Cover via Amazon
“I’m feelin’ bettah,”I chirruped in return. Soon I was warmer and cozier, but not just from the covers. The hearty kiss he gave me helped, too, and the knowledge that no matter what, I was truly loved and cherished. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.
365 days of the year.