|Maty and her roses|
So yesterday I asked for confirmation of the agreement we'd made earlier in the month. "No gifts this year, right, honey? We're gonna go for dinner and save our money, right?"
"Yes," she said. She was going through our cupboard, looking for something to cook for supper.
"Okay, then," I said. "No gifts."
She nodded, but she wasn't really listening. Her mind was on cooking.
This afternoon, in spite of our agreement, I found that I couldn't bring myself to keep my end of the bargain. I couldn't let Valentine's Day pass without something, even if it was a little something, to present to this woman. Not in good conscience.
She came from the other side of the world. She chose to place her life beside mine. She's never once given any indication that she regretted her choice. Never once. And, folks, I'm no picnic to be with.
So I bundled up and braved the cold Portland drizzle for a jaunt down to Fred Meyer where I acquired a dozen red roses.
|Valentine's Day dinner|
We didn't talk much. Maty, I think, had her mind on the new kitchen. And I was wrapped up in how damned lucky I've been in this life.