A little more than a week ago, Rick wrote this:
Love does not have to be extraordinary. Moreover, love shouldn’t be extraordinary, at least not most of the time. Love should consist of neutral tones in both color and sound. Nearly boring, and definitely commonplace.
There is such resonant truth in this for me. I have a wonderful, quiet, commonplace, and ridiculously happy marriage punctuated by shared experience, unspoken understanding, and complete and unquestioned trust.
There are a million little things that make my relationship special, and almost none of those things would seem extraordinary to anyone looking in. Example? It was raining this morning. On my way to work, I noticed (because one only notices such things when it’s raining) that my windshield wipers were doing a crappy job. I needed to drive (with my mother-in-law, Goddess help me) across the state for a baby shower this afternoon, and I didn’t have time, between when I was finished with yoga and when I needed to pick up Mumsie, to go to the auto parts place to pick up new wipers, so I sent my husband a text message before I started yoga class.
Can you see where this is going? Yep; when I came home, there were new wiper blades on the kitchen counter. He put them on while I was in the shower, and the whole way back and forth across the state, I was marinating in delighted, commonplace, boring, contented adoration of my husband (and more than a little stunned wonder that this is actually my real life).
I don’t need chick-flick romance. I don’t want flowers or diamonds. Real love is in the everyday, and I’ve got it big.