I was raised on happily ever afters.
You know….where the girl meets the guy and he’s a famous cooking personality and has his own show and she doesn’t really know how to cook and she finds him overbearing and obnoxious and thinks he knows everything about cooking (which he does because he’s a famous chef) and she wants nothing to do with him even though she has to promote him because it’s part of her job. And along the way she notices that he has amazing hair and discovers that underneath all that bravado is an incredible man because he’s lost his way a little.
Just a little.
And she falls in love with him.
And he falls in love right back and they walk off into the sunset together.
Cue the fireworks.
That’s how I pictured love.
That’s how I thought it should be. You know….red roses that show up unexpectedly and poems and songs composed in your honor and sparkling stars in the sky and trails of petals everywhere….
Just like in the movies.
And so I got married to an incredible man and waited for all the romance to show up.
And occasionally it did.
Over the years there have been some flowers and singing and once I heard a version of roses are red when I made him potato salad and sometimes across a crowded room those twinkling brown eyes make my heart beat faster and I see sparkles.
But along the way…..you know what I’ve discovered?
You know what they never really talk about in the Hallmark movies?
It’s that sometimes the happily-ever-after isn’t in the grand gestures and proclaiming your love across the Grand Canyon or on the big screen at the football game….
….sometimes love is in the everyday.
In the smallest of gestures.
In the littlest of moments.
Sometimes when you least expect it…..a little piece of happily-ever-after shows up.
Like last week.
We’ve been snowed in here at the farmhouse. And while the first day was a novelty and full of snow fun and mittens and snow fights, all that fun quickly wore off and left me grouchy and irritable and feeling a little like the abominable snowman’s second cousin with really bad snow hair.
Several days into snowmageddon 2015, my grouchy self and I were walking outside with my husband. We were trying valiantly to make it to the gatehouse through two feet of snow. My feet were getting soaked and I was questioning the wisdom of moving to the country and calling the snow very bad names in my head and muttering to myself and randomly kicking at the snow…..
….when my husband stopped me.
“Wait,” he said. “Stop where you are.”
This is the part in the story where I seriously think I rolled my eyes at him and the snow. Then I stopped and watched him walk ahead several steps, his boots leaving large footprints in the snow drifts.
After a few steps, he paused and turned around, his pants and boots covered in snow.
“There you go. Now you have a path,” he smiled. “You can walk where I walked and your feet won’t be covered in snow. Just follow my footprints.”
I looked at the footprints and looked at him and right there in the middle of that freezing snowmageddon….
….my heart melted.
PS And I promise you….I heard fireworks. 🙂