SongsForGrownups

If you have been married awhile, you might understand this one.  If not, you might wonder what the fuss is about, or at least think me a bit, well, odd.

A few years ago I attended the 60th wedding anniversary celebration for Cecil and Essie Carter.  Cecil’s speech began something like this:  ”People ask me, what’s your secret?  How have you stayed married for so long?  I tell them:  I do whatever she wants.”

Now,  Essie is a formidable woman.  So,  no doubt, there is some truth to it.  My wife Leslie is also formidable.  She loves fiercely.  She makes me want her to be happy, and happy with me.  So I feel the truth in Cecil’s words too.  But.

This morning I made Leslie the breakfast she usually prefers,  Zoom whole-wheat cereal with chopped almonds and pecans, brown sugar and milk.  For myself I made a sort-of-fritter with leftover mashed potatoes, eggs, shredded cheddar, and mushrooms sauteed in butter and a little Jamaica-me-Crazy garlic salt.  It was very tasty.  Mostly because Leslie bought the mushrooms just for me.  See, she really hates mushrooms.  Evan too.  So I’m the only one in the house who will eat them.  But she went to Valley Foods the other day and they were having a 24-hour sale, and she bought a load of fruit and veggies, and the mushrooms.

I do stuff for Leslie.  I spoil her, everyone says so.  Sometimes when I do something for her, she will say “I love you”. You know, in that voice.  That’s not really what I did it for, and it’s not really why she loves me, but it’s nice.  Lately I’ve been thinking that it’s the little things that bring it home.

Most nights when we’re getting ready for bed, Leslie will hand me a pair of her most comfortable socks and proffer her feet.  And I will put the socks on her, not too tight around the toes, so her feet will stay warm when she kicks off the covers, I think.  I’ve been thinking about this little intimacy for quite awhile, and about what it represents for us.  It almost seems too intimate to share with everyone, and I hope she doesn’t mind.  I’ve learned to say “I love you” often, and I mean it when I say it.  But this little ritual with the socks–well, if you’ve been married for awhile, maybe you already know.

So my breakfast this morning was particularly delicious, especially the mushrooms, because when Leslie bought them, she was saying, “I love you”.  You know.  In that voice.