After ten years of marriage, my husband knows this all too well. So I never expect flowers. I expect gifts. And every once in a while he gets it right.
I woke up yesterday to a gift, yes, but also a dozen tin foil roses.
I couldn't tell you when the first time he did it was. I don't think it was when we were dating, though I could be wrong. I don't remember the first time my husband handed me a rose made out of a candy wrapper, or a heart made out of twisty ties. But I do remember that I loved it. I've even kept most of them through the years.
My husband isn't a particularly romantic man. He never really has been. Most men aren't. That's why love stories exist, right? So we can read about the perfect man since he doesn't actually exist.
But every once in a while he'll do something, which to an outsider would appear to be nothing special. Maybe even a little strange. But to me, it kinda means the world. And isn't that what romance is? Knowing what speaks to the other person's heart?
As weird as it may seem to others, those foil roses meant more to me than if he'd filled the entire house with real ones. It's our thing. It's what he does to tell me he loves me. It's how I know he actually thought about me, not what just to get me.
Love stories will always make us swoon and wish. But don't forget what real romance is. And watch for it. Sometimes it doesn't seem like anything special; a short note in your purse, a candy wrapper rose, a smile across the diner table.
But if he loves you, it's there.