14 February, 2014

The Day of Love

My daughter sent a text today that wished me a Happy Halloween. It's a long standing joke between us because John always calls Valentine's Day Halloween. He is not kidding. Just sort of Freudian slipping.

John's mother was not the reason I married him, but she certainly sweetened the pot. I adored her. She told me before John and I married that he's a wonderful man, but that there "isn't much romance in Harmon men's souls." She meant hearts and flowers and trilling birds. And in that regard she was right.

John don't do mush. He does, however, check the tread on my tires, let's me out of the car by the front door when it's raining, and asks if I have money when I go someplace without him. I can count on the front outside light being on when I come home after dark, and his using tact when I ask a question whose answer I won't like. No, John is not romantic, but he is caring and thoughtful.

The word romance comes from "of Rome." And really, feeding folks to lions doesn't seem all that loving. I like him just the way he is.

Happy Halloween, Johnny.


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