February 15, 2002

• 46
  
  My parents have been married for 46 years. (That’s two 23s, by the way). They were making it work before I was born, and before many of you were born, either. It’s not their anniversary or anything, but it’s Valentine’s day, and I talked to them on the phone earlier today, and I could use a happy story at the moment, so it will be theirs.
  
  They’re, like, really in love. I don’t recall a definitive moment of understanding this, except maybe when my brother got married, and seeing them at that wedding. Well, it was long before that, but it was a slow dawning on my part. I had to deprogram myself in order to see it. All those bullshit stories you’re taught as a Texas male, and my deep, deep cynicism, which served to buffer me from those bullshit stories… All that had to get out of the way.
  
  Anyway. They told me the tale of this Valentine’s morning. Due to various logistical requirements about which the less said the better, they sleep in seperate rooms. Dad wakes earlier, because that’s just what he does, and he goes off to work. Mom wakes later, not being so enthusiastic about the beginning of the day.
  
  Today dad woke to find a trail of chocolate kisses in pink and silver. Where did they lead? Out of the bedroom, down the hall, into the kitchen, and to the coffee pot. What I love about this is that it’s where he was going anyway, but on this day it’s not just the ordinary path toward a morning buzz (already a happy thing), it’s the ordinary path toward a morning buzz decorated by consideration and forethought. It’s them just doing their thing, and that thing is special, even as it’s ordinary.
  
  A while later, mom wakes. Dad’s already gone off to work. She goes to get some coffee, from the pot he always leaves for her before heading out. Guess what he’s spelled out with the chocolate kisses? Here’s a hint.. It’s three words, none longer than four letters.
  

  • 3:31 am
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