Pipe Cleaner Roses
Yesterday, there was talk all over FaceBook by frustrated young men (friends of my daughters) concerning Valentine's Day. They seem to think, or their girlfriends would have them believe, that an expensive gift and a dinner is a requisite for a happy evening. I shake my head and try to resist the temptation to set them straight. I tried. I failed.
~~~
Its impossible to explain to someone under 25 that a made-up holiday marketed this heavily means nothing.
Let me re-phrase that: It means nothing if every other day of the year you don't *want* to do the things the holiday is supposed to include. It means nothing if its about the gift and not the time. It means nothing if it has to come with sparkle to get the spark. The two have nothing to do with one another. If I had as much sparkle as I do spark, Elizabeth Taylor would be envious of the vault in my house.
On my windowsill in my kitchen there is a small hand-made vase. Autumn made it. It holds these pipe-cleaner roses Aaron made for me a couple years ago. As I stand at the kitchen sink I have a spectacular view outside the window. Winter in Granby is nothing if not completely breathtakingly beautiful. But I usually let my eyes settle on the fuzzy little flowers, bending their wiry faces toward me. They're my favorite flowers. Whenever someone asks me what my favorite flower is, I am always tempted to say "pipe cleaner." I don't remember if he made them around a holiday or not. Probably not. He probably just made them for the silliness of it, which means I love them even more.
Holidays don't define a relationship. They shouldn't mean a forced night out, a silent dinner at a restaurant with two people who don't look at each other anymore. What defines a happy home is the ability to make a few hours of video games the most fun thing you've done in a long time. Its walking through a messy house with a smile on your face for no particular reason. Its waking up just long enough to hear the front door close when he comes home from work. Its card games on a Sunday afternoon, a glass of wine on a Tuesday evening and holding hands driving to Target. Its knowing that there is no one else on this planet you would rather have smile back at you.
The knowing is important. When its real and true and honest, there are no second guesses or doubts or what ifs. It takes on a life of its own and in the middle of chaos or difficulty, its there to cradle you both. It softens the blows, it makes the impossible possible and against all odds, it makes a family greater than the sum of its parts. No matter how tough 2011 started, this day means one thing to me. At least I have him to come home to. No matter how bad I screw things up, I got this one thing right. And maybe, just maybe, in the years to come, my kids will be ahead of the game because their mom got this part right.
~~~
Its impossible to explain to someone under 25 that a made-up holiday marketed this heavily means nothing.
Let me re-phrase that: It means nothing if every other day of the year you don't *want* to do the things the holiday is supposed to include. It means nothing if its about the gift and not the time. It means nothing if it has to come with sparkle to get the spark. The two have nothing to do with one another. If I had as much sparkle as I do spark, Elizabeth Taylor would be envious of the vault in my house.
On my windowsill in my kitchen there is a small hand-made vase. Autumn made it. It holds these pipe-cleaner roses Aaron made for me a couple years ago. As I stand at the kitchen sink I have a spectacular view outside the window. Winter in Granby is nothing if not completely breathtakingly beautiful. But I usually let my eyes settle on the fuzzy little flowers, bending their wiry faces toward me. They're my favorite flowers. Whenever someone asks me what my favorite flower is, I am always tempted to say "pipe cleaner." I don't remember if he made them around a holiday or not. Probably not. He probably just made them for the silliness of it, which means I love them even more.
Holidays don't define a relationship. They shouldn't mean a forced night out, a silent dinner at a restaurant with two people who don't look at each other anymore. What defines a happy home is the ability to make a few hours of video games the most fun thing you've done in a long time. Its walking through a messy house with a smile on your face for no particular reason. Its waking up just long enough to hear the front door close when he comes home from work. Its card games on a Sunday afternoon, a glass of wine on a Tuesday evening and holding hands driving to Target. Its knowing that there is no one else on this planet you would rather have smile back at you.
The knowing is important. When its real and true and honest, there are no second guesses or doubts or what ifs. It takes on a life of its own and in the middle of chaos or difficulty, its there to cradle you both. It softens the blows, it makes the impossible possible and against all odds, it makes a family greater than the sum of its parts. No matter how tough 2011 started, this day means one thing to me. At least I have him to come home to. No matter how bad I screw things up, I got this one thing right. And maybe, just maybe, in the years to come, my kids will be ahead of the game because their mom got this part right.
I love this. And your blog, in general. :)
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