Everybody shows love in different ways. If I am leaving for a long driving trip, my husband will desperately run down the driveway and scream at me “Put on your seatbelt!” He will also hand me big handfuls of paper napkins “just in case.” I understand the seatbelts: He’s worried; he doesn’t want anything to happen to me; he wants me to keep safe. In a perfect world, men would rush after us with easy-to-read signs like bouquets of red rose or huge banners painted with, duh, I LOVE YOU. We do not live in that world. The person who adores you may stuff carrots in your lunch to protect you from cancer with fresh vegetables or refuse to let you watch 90210
because it hurts your brain.
Love is not
a mystery, I believe. Most of us know who loves us. But the expression of that love is often cryptic. Take the paper napkins. I don’t know what those are for. But I suspect they might have something to do with sopping up all the tarter sauce that will spurt out of the Filet of Fish that I will purchase at the first McDonald’s on the side of the highway that I spot, which is chain of events that my beloved, fast-food-despising husband and I will never discuss...out of love.
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