Saturday, June 25, 2011

What Love Looked Like Today

Today was my birthday + 1 week. My make-up Saturday birthday.

It started much too early and quite poorly, if I'm being honest. But once we wrangled our wileys out of the house, things took a sharp turn towards the serene.

In typical fashion, I daydreamed about every single thing we might cram into our 6 hours - the fun and the necessary.

We debated for minutes and minutes about which movie we were going to see.

We encountered last-minute drama of the teenaged variety that inspired me to proclaim, "I love busting people!" It's totally true. My kids are in for it.

Then, somewhere on the way to the theater, we found ourselves waylayed by rinky-dink city yard sales, complete with make-shift cardboard signage and piles of clothes they didn't even bother to fold. Hey, I don't mind. I scored a ziploc full of Barbie clothes (R's dream item is Barbie socks. Thoughts?), a box of Star Wars figurines and a ten-cent pair of red knee socks with snowflakes.

We coasted on over to lunch, then ran a few errands.


And then we parked it.

This park was truly woeful. They don't even bother to mow this park. There were no kids to be found. It's near a busy street. It was a real piece of work.

Also? It was Heaven.

The blanket was positioned exactly half in the sun, half in the shade.



I read for thirty-five seconds or so before a daydream pulled me away. Cory conked.

We didn't even talk much, and it's the most fun I've had with him all week. I just really like the guy, that's all. He's the best do-nothing company I know.

So, the paint might be a bit faded sometimes and the grass a little long. We all have days like that.

But when I take the time to look closer, I see two hearts that have simply made room for the other. We take the late night laughing , cereal bowls in our laps, talking in the dark - good. We take weeds that over time can look almost like flowers, so we pluck them up and put them in a soup can.

We hold hands in a sketchy park edged in chain-link and decide to pretend that we don't even notice the garbage-can smell that wafts over when the breeze blows from a particular angle.

Marriage is work. Sometimes, it's hard work.

But mostly, it's perspective.

PS - I totally, totally do not have muscles in my arms.
Magical lighting, I tell you.
I told Cory, "Maybe I do have muscles and we just never knew!"
His response: Two slow shakes of his head.