One Sunday afternoon, many months ago, I asked my husband to bring me coffee. He asked me how I take it. We have been married for 20 years. I have had hundreds of cups of coffee in his presence. I used to take sugar sometimes, but that has been at least 10 years ago.
A few weeks later, in Sunday School class, a man was offering to get my coffee since I couldn't wiggle through the crowd to reach the coffee pot. He got the exact right cup out of the cupboard. He put the coffee in. Poured the cream in and asked, "is this the right color?" And I nearly cried. Seriously. Someone had NOTICED me. Noticed what I like. Bothered. Wow.
Within a short amount of time there was another Sunday that a pastor came over to give me a hug as I was walking into church. He is much taller than I. As he leaned over, he said, "your hair smells good." Then we both laughed as I explained that it was an aveda product. And, yet, I nearly cried again. My husband never says those little things. Unless he hopes that sex is imminent.
Neither of the things that happened with the "other" men were sexual...brotherly. Kind. Gentle. A breath of fresh air. I wish I could have told them how much it meant.
So, I wonder.
oops, gotta run.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Go ahead. Make my day. Leave me a comment.