It’s been a tough day in a tough week. It feels like everything is falling apart sometimes — the world, the buildings we spend our time in, our bodies.
Our anniversary comes — almost like a shock. I wouldn’t have even noticed if not for Facebook memories.
We have no plans on the actual date. You’re busy fixing broken things somewhere else. I’m feeling broken that day, for other reasons.
And as my friends keep asking me what we have planned for our anniversary, I keep being amused I’m saying “nothing.”
It helps that I’m not much of a holiday person. That’s secondary to some mix of being an independent person and growing up in a high-functioning dysfunctional family.
It’s not that my partner and I don’t celebrate our relationship or each other. We do! We give each other gifts at random times. And we took a big trip for our 5th anniversary and will be taking our 10th anniversary trip sometime here in the coming months (we’re good planners and will find a way, COVID or not).
My partner is an extremely romantic, sensitive, lovely person.
But yeah… nothing happened on our anniversary… except…
Except, except, except…
That night when I was sleeping, he got up to use the bathroom, and I guess when he came back, he noticed I’d thrown off the covers and was all twisted up in whatever linens were around me. And so he took a second and tucked me back in. He made sure I was warm.
I half-woke up when he did this. I wasn’t sure whether it was real or a dream until the next morning when I checked in with him.
Anyway, those few seconds in the wee hours of the morning made me feel so loved. Much more than flowers or a piece of jewelry ever could.
I think, given the choice, I prefer a little fuss like that to some big fuss that’s done solely to impress other people.