As I have well documented, my husband is not exactly the most romantic person ever.
I knew I was in trouble very early in our relationship when he advised me of the date of his birth, February 15th, and stated how glad he was that his mom held him in that extra day so he wouldn't have the pressure to be romantic that came along with being born on Valentine's Day.
No problem there. Not even close.
Not that he's not a nice man. He is. He's funny and kind and especially sweet to old women. Old women freaking love him.
But to me? Well, he said to me last night, "Is this the same brand of taco seasoning you normally use? Because it's okay. Well, it's edible. But it's not the same one you normally use."
And sometimes? When I need him to say, "You are beautiful!" he says, "I find you attractive." Meaning, when I'm in that state of mind, "No one ELSE on the PLANET would ever find you attractive. But that's okay. I do."
So he decided we needed to fix the road in front of our driveway. Because, apparently, we are now working for the city of Knoxville, in addition to the rest of our 11000 jobs. We bought quick-cement and rocks. We dragged our hose to the front of the house and brought the shovel out of the basement. It took a couple of hours, but we smoothed it out pretty nicely. I was resentful the entire time (the question, "Why, again, are we doing the job of the city when our taxes are so outrageous?" might have passed my lips a few times), but it turned out nicely.
I went under the house and put away the shovel. Went to the side of the house and turned off the water. I came to the front and Jason was sitting on the road, smoothing the cement with his hands.
I went to him to see if he wanted a drink and I saw what he was actually doing.
Which was, of course, writing our initials in the cement.
He noticed me, looked up, and smiled.
"Even when we don't live here, this will be our road," he explained. "Our initials will be here forever."
I didn't say anything. I couldn't.
"Forever," he said again. "Like me and you."
The littlest things are the biggest things ever. That's the truth.