love, actually

i blame the airport scene. the rush into arms. the rose bouquets.
i blame the hallmark store at my local mall, and every song john mayer wrote from 2003-2006.
i blame disney and laura ingalls wilder. and that scene in the field when zack and kelly finally married in the finale of saved by the bell.

i come from a romantic family. from a mom and dad who have date night every friday and still kiss across the kitchen table and behind the refrigerator. from a grandfather who kneels every night on her side of the bed, whispering and praying into the too-cold sheets, neatly made up to his left since that morning in april.

so i believe in the grandeur of it all. of valentines day. of kneeling before fountains and screaming her name into a crowd of pigeons in venice. in spelling out sentiments in rose petals and saving every prom corsage. in staying up late on the phone just to hear the breath of someone too far away.

but i also believe, i think we must believe, in the realism of love. in the day-in, day-out routine of it all. the ho-hum normalcy that starts in a little house and grows, plants itself in the walls, the kitchen countertops, the bed frames and the laundry basket. until one morning the sun hits the coffee pot just right and you realize you've made a home.

in going to bed at nine with just enough energy to meet in the middle for a quick kiss.

in grocery store spats and long car rides home in the dark.

in being okay with the fact that every meal is not going to be a candlelit course of free range chicken and organic field greens. most nights, it's probably going to be cereal on the porch.

in saturdays with no makeup, holding hands across the pew on sunday.

in bringing him the sports column in bed, and letting that be the most romantic thing you do.

in being okay with the idea that every day is not our wedding day. there will be days when i'm mad at you, and you at me. when i'm tired and your back hurts. when i can't see and you can't walk. when all there is to do is sit on the porch rocker and look onto the yard and we wonder where our youth ran off to.

no, we can't always be over the moon. our stars will fall back down to earth. and we'll breathe in the coppery dirt and plant ourselves in this ground. and we'll spend a lifetime and beyond building a beanstalk back up to heaven, reaching and sprouting in spurts along the way. but that's the glorious part of it, the growing and stretching.

i have a little challenge for you:

what's one word you'd use to describe real love? mine is: compromise.

leave it here in the comments or e-mail it {descriptions/pictures are welcome too: vintchdesigns@gmail.com.}

on valentines day, i'm going to do a little something special with the responses.