I went to Costco this morning because Amira had eaten every piece of fruit in our house, and she simply cannot survive without bananas. During our fruit buying frenzy I walked by Costco's display of roses. Several men were searching through seemingly identical boquets, looking for the perfect bunch for their sweethearts.
Let me just say, Mohamed doesn't really buy flowers. He thinks it is a strange American tradition, a distant cousin of the even stranger tradition of Christmas trees. Once I noticed the flowers in Costco it seemed that every man in the store had some in his cart and I began feeling sorry for myself. For so many boquets of flowers not bought- not because I actually wanted the flowers, mind you, I just wanted Mohamed to buy them. So I made a show of telling Amira that we were going to buy flowers for our neighbor, knowing full well I planned to keep them, myself. I figured if Mohamed saw me buying flowers for myself, he would get the hint.
On my way to the check-out aisle I realized how crazy I was being. I felt the same way I do when I see commercials for diamond rings, and for a moment wish I hadn't given mine back. I don't want a diamond, I returned my engagement ring several years ago, but when I watch those stupid "diamonds are forever" commericals, I start to think I do.
I put the flowers back, and started to think about the love Mohamed and I share. I thought about the millions of ways he shows me his love. The first things that came to mind:
When we came back from our trip to Morocco, Mohamed had stocked the fridge full of my favorite foods (or at least the food I try to have us eat)- bags of organic spinach, several pounds of oranges, hummus, you get the idea. Not even food he really likes.
He rocks Norah to sleep every night.
He always kisses me exactly three times when I drop him off at work.
If I like his meal better at a restaurant, he trades me.
He pretends he doesn't mind eating lentils and beans every night.
A few nights ago I told him I wanted to find a way to revolutianize childbirth in the US. (this was probably the fourth time I have changed my career goals in the last month). Mohamed said, "You would be really wonderful at that, sweetheart. Sounds great." Not, "How will you do that?" Or, "will you just make up your mind."
And finally, I often think about how well he loved me during Norah's birth. He was completely present with me, and strong when I needed him to be strong. He rubbed my back, and brought me water, and encouraged me continuously. I asked him the other day if he ever thinks about Norah's birth and he told me, "all the time."
I love you, my husband. I love you for all those reasons and countless more. Happy Valentine's day to my true partner and best friend.
And, as it turns out, Mohamed come home from work with a dozen pink roses.