My husband didn’t buy me flowers or candy for our anniversary, and I’m not ticked off
today at 8:49 am
This year on our anniversary, my husband didn’t buy me a box of chocolates, a dozen roses, or even a single carnation, for that matter.
It may sound as if I’m complaining here, but I’m not. Far from it.
That’s because he gave me something better. A card. A lovely card decorated with a duo of lovebirds, a red heart, a whisper of glitter, and sweet, tender sentiments that touched my heart.
It may sound like hyperbole, but the truth is the card touches me in places I didn’t know I had.
Don’t tell Hallmark, but as a former advertising copywriter, I’d always thumbed my nose at greeting cards that were excessively flowery in language and illustration.
The former me thought that unless a card was clever, sarcastic, funny or all of the above, they were trite, uncool.
That all changed when I met my husband. Except for our second anniversary when he surprised me with a convection oven ((I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but it took up half of our coveted counter space. What was he thinking!?), he launched a tradition of giving me corny, mushy cards for special occasions.
I adored them all. No matter how sappy the sentiments, I savored every printed and handwritten word. All were expressions of his love, gloriously unfettered.
I loved getting these expressions of love. I still do.
I certainly had other beaus before I met my husband. But somehow they weren’t quite right for me, or I for them. But when my husband began presenting me with cards, I sensed the messages were truely from the heart, not another organ.
Not that our relationship is perfect. That we never have a disagreement. He can be stubborn. My listening skills sometimes can use improvement. Everyone has their trials and tribulations, and peaks and valleys. Like most couples, we have our share of all of the above.
This year for personal reasons, the anniversary card I received from him felt more poignant than ever. Every time I glance at the card, which now sits atop my dresser, perched between our wedding photo and a glass perfume bottle, I am reminded at just how lucky I am to love and be loved so fervently, so honestly, so completely.
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Judy Marcus is a freelance writer whose work appears in a variety of publications. She’s also a food lover. For news, recipes and commentary about food, check out her blog, Sugar Buzz Chicago. For news and opinions on almost anything else, visit Opinionated Woman.
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