Christmas In April

Great love stories are depicted in many ways. Song, poetry, a romantic movie. My love story can be captured in a snapshot:

It's a s'more maker for the microwave. Charming, isn't it. Todd pulled this out of the closet this week. He giggled as he handed it to me. He said, "Hey, I bought this for you for Christmas. Last Christmas. I forgot." My love story. Summed up right there.

Years ago, Todd and I were driving in the car near our house. I decided to get sentimental, and I proceeded to pour out my love to him. He remained quiet, eyes watching out the window. I could tell he was concentrating. I knew he was soaking in all my eloquent words while at the same time, realizing how lucky he was to have married me. In the middle of my love speech, Todd gasped and his arm shot across me so that he could point out the window. "Oh my gosh, the A&W is now open!!!" I remained silent after that. Words lost all meaning.

On another special occasion, I was again, mid sentence in telling Todd of my love for him. He simply stared at me intently. That was my cue to keep going, so I did. Gush, gush, gush. Finally, he tilted his head to the side and said, "you know, sometimes when you talk, your tooth looks like a little piece of corn." Again, silence.

So, imagine my surprise when Todd pulled out the s'more maker and wished me a Merry Christmas. No surprise at all really. I've grown used to the way my love story ebbs and flows. In truth, I've come to love my own love story. It's quirky and humorous and full of unexpected moments. Not everyone gets a Christmas gift in April. Not everyone has teeth that look like corn. And not everyone gets to have a love story that is so deeply wound together in a perfect fit, and bundled for eternity. I do. And along the way, I just may microwave a s'more or two.