He tapped and scratched on the back door nearly making me piss myself. I was sweeping the kitchen and didn't expect him home for another hour. I grinned at my own startled self while simultaneously giving him a half-hearted glare and went to let him in. He interrupted me as I asked what was wrong with his key by thrusting a giant bouquet of flowers under my nose with a big grin. "Happy Birthday!" He thrust the flowers into my left hand with the broom, "and I got you a big bag of kisses," He dropped a big bag of Hershey Kisses in my other arm, "aaaand a card!"
Now readers. I'm sure many of you know I don't care for cut flowers.
You might even guess that when I see cut flowers I just see interesting additions to the compost heap and wonder if I'll remember to empty the vase before it smells like dead ass. I do take the time to cut the stems and pour the weird powder in the water and place them somewhere high and out of sight so the toddler doesn't eat them and then I promptly forget about them until the smell I already mentioned forces me to seek it's source.
You probably realize that when I do want chocolate I want it with a passion that won't allow the time and clean up it takes to open fifty Hershey kisses. Still, I might be able to bribe the children into good behavior and personal favors for a very long time doling out those little chocolate kisses.
You might even know I don't put too much stock in going to a store and grabbing a sentiment covered in pastel floral, hot pink hearts or goofy cartoons for $4.95. You might even know we have in our house every conceivable supply necessary to fold a piece of cardstock and write your own goddamn thought on it and do it very well.
BUT you don't know…... He did remember to sign it this time.
He wrote "I will love you forever."
It occurs to me that it may be what he doesn't know that makes that so fucking true.
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