As I leaned against the counter he snuck in behind me. His arm twisted around my middle gurgling out a non-verbal I caught you. This was our new normal cloaked in my hiding from calories and him being the dutiful protector by annihilating half of that doughnut for me. A doughnut that I have spent the last two years protesting. I tell him over and over, “Don’t buy one of those bear claws,” and every single time he comes back with one of them. And yea I find it annoying, but then I remember the man I married. The one who has a quiet rumble of love. The kind that I don’t hear often, but I see.
This every weekend doughnut game is one we will keep playing. He buys them because he knows I love them. He also helps me eat them because he knows how much I cannot say no to them or him. I will keep protesting the doughnut and the sweetness with which he buys them. But more than anything I enjoy his arms wrapped around me as we share in a something as simple as a bear claw from our local bakery because that is our love.
I am telling our story. A unique prospective. A unique love story. A messy meaningful glimpse into my love and my life. My beginning, my middle and my end being placed out for the world to see. And more than anything my pain. It is real and it cuts and it moves and that is why this story needs told.
Love doesn’t look like what Disney or sitcoms show us. It looks like us. It looks like a hard life where moments of happiness carry you through to the next. Going through it all again has been both fun and hard. I know in order to do my story justice and to have any hope at it being a story for more than my eyes I have to be real and be honest.
But in my experience real and honest are the hardest words to type because they can sheer you again over and over. The images and the feelings, but our story needs told. Love is worth it. Love will always be worth it.