"You know those heart-warming, yet sappy cards you find to express your undying love for your partner---"
"Yes."
"Mine would read, my love for you is like a massive Tsunami."
"Well, that is disturbing. You love me like a massive wave hitting land to then kill a bunch of innocent people? Do I survive?"
"NO!!! I meant like my love is as big as a Tsunami!"
"So, really do I survive?"
Moral of the story:
He would totally survive. I would sacrifice myself and make sure he made it inland.
This discussion was had due to the inexhaustible amount of hearts, roses, chocolates and other miscellaneous items that are intended to exemplify love. The truth is, we don't do the whole Valentine's gig. Why?
(No, it's not necessarily because it is a waste of money)
The real reason stems from something we learned in my grandparent's living room when we were both nineteen. Grandma Karabatsos told us that her and grandpa decided to never exchange presents after their first holiday together. It first started with Christmas--Grandpa had purchased a wool sweater for Grandma and the "damn thing was like wearing a chicken pox blanket on fire." She never wore it again and they vowed to never exchange gifts again.
Settled.....but......
When my mom (Bone) was first born, my grandfather wanted to express a sense of gratitude to my grandmother. He sent her a bouquet of flower--a sweet sentiment he assumed she would love. However, he instead found her asking "what did you do?" rather than gushing over the gesture. (She was a fiery Irishwoman) From that moment on, she told him that it was unnecessary to buy her flowers--because if he did than she would start asking questions.
Without knowing their love story, it is hard to understand. But what Jamie and I both know is their love was by far the greatest example we could have ever witnessed. Their love was never about the roses, a sweater, a piece of jewelry or a new house--it was an unrelenting, practical love that found peace in the simplest, yet most profound ways. It was the way they looked at one another. It was the way he bent down to tie her shoes. It was the way she spoke of his discernment and noble heart. It was the way they spoke to one another and never stopped asking questions. It wasn't material--it was a deeply-rooted respect that never wavered in loyalty for one another.
(Grandma Lucy had straight up Tsunami love for Jim--I have no doubt)
"Yes."
"Mine would read, my love for you is like a massive Tsunami."
"Well, that is disturbing. You love me like a massive wave hitting land to then kill a bunch of innocent people? Do I survive?"
"NO!!! I meant like my love is as big as a Tsunami!"
"So, really do I survive?"
Moral of the story:
He would totally survive. I would sacrifice myself and make sure he made it inland.
This discussion was had due to the inexhaustible amount of hearts, roses, chocolates and other miscellaneous items that are intended to exemplify love. The truth is, we don't do the whole Valentine's gig. Why?
(No, it's not necessarily because it is a waste of money)
The real reason stems from something we learned in my grandparent's living room when we were both nineteen. Grandma Karabatsos told us that her and grandpa decided to never exchange presents after their first holiday together. It first started with Christmas--Grandpa had purchased a wool sweater for Grandma and the "damn thing was like wearing a chicken pox blanket on fire." She never wore it again and they vowed to never exchange gifts again.
Settled.....but......
When my mom (Bone) was first born, my grandfather wanted to express a sense of gratitude to my grandmother. He sent her a bouquet of flower--a sweet sentiment he assumed she would love. However, he instead found her asking "what did you do?" rather than gushing over the gesture. (She was a fiery Irishwoman) From that moment on, she told him that it was unnecessary to buy her flowers--because if he did than she would start asking questions.
Without knowing their love story, it is hard to understand. But what Jamie and I both know is their love was by far the greatest example we could have ever witnessed. Their love was never about the roses, a sweater, a piece of jewelry or a new house--it was an unrelenting, practical love that found peace in the simplest, yet most profound ways. It was the way they looked at one another. It was the way he bent down to tie her shoes. It was the way she spoke of his discernment and noble heart. It was the way they spoke to one another and never stopped asking questions. It wasn't material--it was a deeply-rooted respect that never wavered in loyalty for one another.
(Grandma Lucy had straight up Tsunami love for Jim--I have no doubt)
