“I heard today that women are more prone to heart disease and heart attacks if their waists are more than 35 inches.”
He paused.
“You’re about a 25, aren’t you?” my husband asked.
A 25? Inwardly, I laughed incredulously. “I… don’t… think so,” I replied laughing. I used to be less than 25 inches...when I was in my twenties maybe.
The beauty of long term relationships and being with someone from when you were in your prime is that they remember you back then. Somehow time stops and their vision of you is back there when everything was beautiful, wonderful, new. There are so many fond memories of those faraway times, that those get stuck in the memory banks and replayed over and over like a DVD. My husband remembers me, remembers us, as teenagers, possibly some of the most wonderful times of our lives when the world and our future held so much promise.
And sometimes, like right now, it shows that he still believes, truly believes, that I have a 25-inch waistline. God Bless him!
That he was thinking about women with heart disease, and me with a small waistline, and that he would then verbalize his thoughts to me…wow. That is love. That is what makes me pause in my crackpot, cynical world and be grateful for all that I have. That someone in this great big, cold world might notice something, and care, is everything, isn’t it? That’s what being blessed is all about. To have even one person care matters.
In that sentence, he gave me more than champagne or diamonds or a romantic dinner out. He moved me beyond words.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
He has, so simply and quietly, given me the very best gift of all.
