Today I was reminded of one of the first dates my now husband and I went on. Actually, we didn’t go anywhere – he came to my apartment to cook me dinner. I was on the phone with my mother before he arrived, telling her about this date I was about to go on, when the doorbell rang. I answered the door while still on the phone and narrated what I saw when I opened the door to her.
“He has a bouquet of broccoli.”
He was also carrying some skinless chicken breasts and a box of Uncle Ben’s wild rice. He was making dinner, and this was something he knew how to cook.
Today he came home from the hardware store with a hammock. I was in the middle of marking a pile of working bibliographies, and he began unfurling this multicoloured piece of fabric. I had no idea what it was. I’d been talking about getting a hammock to hang between a palm in the yard and the house. He insisted that a hammock wasn’t comfortable, and that he wouldn’t want one. But I wanted one. Not bad enough to go out and get one myself, but I wanted one nonetheless. My husband brings me broccoli and hammocks.
Having visitors staying in your house, as much as you love having them, can be stressful. Especially when you have only one car and your house isn’t that big. I think my husband can see I’m a bit tense. Well, he’s a bit tense, too. It’s just overwhelming, I suppose, because we are trying to introduce a new place and a new culture to our visitors. I think that’s why my husband came home from the hardware store this afternoon bearing gifts.
I don’t remember how the broccoli and chicken dinner turned out all those years ago, but the marriage is good, so there’s that.