The other day I was reading the New York Times and they had a section where they were offering readers to submit their own loves stories in 100 words or less. I looked through their requirements, and they were looking for a demographic that doesn’t include me, but I still thought it would be fun to try and write a love story in 100 words or less. I ended up with three stories, about children, my spouse and God. Enjoy!
He is the youngest of ten. His oldest two siblings are all grown and gone. He is the baby. Three years old.
I am cleaning my desk. He climbs into my lap, demands my attention.
Read me a book!
Ok, one book, then you go play.
We settle into my armchair. I read. He smiles and laughs. I set the book down. He snuggles into me, in moments, asleep.
I still need to clean.
It can wait.
I’ve only got seconds left before he too will be grown.
I sit and hold my baby.
We are Romance
The romance movie ends. Steamy, undying love between two attractive, successful people. I look across at my husband. We are two middle-aged, normal looking people. We pay bills. Raise our kids. Go to church. We are not considered movie material. Too bad. Our lives are all about romance and undying love. The undying love of washing dishes and going to work every day. The romance of saying, no, you stay in bed, I’ll get the crying baby. The passion of sleeping in on a Saturday morning together while kids eat cereal and watch tv. We are Romance in the flesh.
God. The one I bring my heaviest questions to. The one who gives me answers. The one who lives in my head. Hears every thought and feeling, loves me anyway. The one I talk to, complain to, yell at, cry to, sing praises to. The one I compliment and thank every day as I watch the sunrise, see the beautiful colors of the fall trees, feel the warm sunshine. The one who I take my heaviest burdens to. Trust that he will turn the bad into good.
God. Without you there is nothing. You are the meaning of life.