deja vu, me & you

My husband is a wonderful, wonderful man.
He has no problem being silly with me.

As a daddy, he is as sweet as sugar
All in all, a keeper, he is.
However, the man cannot surprise me.
Maybe it’s our deep connection.
We do have a sort of ESP. Don’t believe me? Here. Here’s your proof.
However, I believe it is that I can read him like a book.
Like, around the holidays, for example–
this is how a typical conversation will go:
K: I can’t wait for Hanukkah tomorrow!
Moi: Oh yeah? Did you get me something good?
K: Yes, you’ll love it.
Moi: Can I have a hint?
K: No way!
Moi: Okay. I know what it is. It’s a new camera.

Yeah, I’m not kidding around. That’s how it goes.

However, I must give credit where credit is due,
in telling you,
that just this weekend, the man surprised me with the oldest trick in the book;
that is, his oldest trick
from our story.

It was Yom Kippur.
He was fasting, I was not.
He had to do his mom a favor and go food shopping for her,
if you don’t know,
is one of the worst, most difficult things to do while trying to abstain from eating.
But, his mom needed him, and so he went.
What did I tell you?
Good man.
Anyway, he returned home, and as I heard him climbing the stairs, I also heard a
familiar rustling sound.
He came into the bedroom to find me,
and I heard the distinct sound of cellophane from behind his back.
Just like the last time,
my first thought was flowers?
Exactly the same error I made on the first night we met.
I’m a girl, and I do love a good flower or two,
but not as much as I love a good dessert,
or four,
so you can imagine my excitement when he held out his arms,
and showed me that he had not, in fact, come home with a floral bouquet,
but, instead, come home with a bouquet of edible treats.
Did I mention that he was fasting?
He surprised me with madeleines and cheesey crackers and treats galore,
just as he had surprised me with Rice Krispie Treats so long ago,
and I was touched.
I am touched,
even as I write about it now.
I should go.
I have a man to nibble
and a madeleine to hug.
Or, you know, something like that.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *