A little light love-story for the day.
Jun. 19th, 2002 06:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
reynardoOnce upon a time, I met a guy. Unlike most of my previous relationships, I hadn't jumped into bed with him in the first couple of days - in fact, there was a significant time of long talks and emails and getting-to-know-you before that sort of thing happened. I'd become a little disillusioned with previous partners due to ending up feeling like I was putting all the work into the realtionship, so this one was looking like it might have some depth and distance in it.
Then he finally came to stay for a couple of days. A couple of cold, windy miserable days where I had to work. (My son was off having a holiday with his Granny). So I rang home the first day to ask what he would like me to bring home for dinner.
The answer?
"Well, I've made the soup, the bath is ready and I'm trying to light the fire - what time do you think you'll be home?"
Good reader, have you an idea of how it feels to make a call expecting to have to go home after a long and rotten day's work to cooking and stuff, and to be told that dinner was ready? I also have to admit I had no great expectations of the dinner - I didn't care, I wasn't the one cooking it.
Well, I arrived home, was greeted enthusiastically, had my hot bath, and then was handed a bowl of soup.
Fresh soup.
Made-from-fresh-chicken-and-rice-and-lemon-and-other-ingredients soup.
The sort of hot soup that fills you and warms you and trips over the tastebuds in a very satisfying way and makes you wish for more - I ate my fair share and there was still a cauldron full.
To hit the start of a relationship and to find that the other person is willing to put the effort in as well. Of such things are blissful lives made.
I'm writing this because for lunch today I had a bowl of the latest batch of the soup. It is genuinely yummy, but it will always have an extra flavour to me. The man that made it for me is going to be my husband in 17 days time, and has followed that soup with many other acts and words and things that show his genuine commitment to the relationship. His respect and love for me amaze me still.
And he makes wonderful chicken soup.
Then he finally came to stay for a couple of days. A couple of cold, windy miserable days where I had to work. (My son was off having a holiday with his Granny). So I rang home the first day to ask what he would like me to bring home for dinner.
The answer?
"Well, I've made the soup, the bath is ready and I'm trying to light the fire - what time do you think you'll be home?"
Good reader, have you an idea of how it feels to make a call expecting to have to go home after a long and rotten day's work to cooking and stuff, and to be told that dinner was ready? I also have to admit I had no great expectations of the dinner - I didn't care, I wasn't the one cooking it.
Well, I arrived home, was greeted enthusiastically, had my hot bath, and then was handed a bowl of soup.
Fresh soup.
Made-from-fresh-chicken-and-rice-and-lemon-and-other-ingredients soup.
The sort of hot soup that fills you and warms you and trips over the tastebuds in a very satisfying way and makes you wish for more - I ate my fair share and there was still a cauldron full.
To hit the start of a relationship and to find that the other person is willing to put the effort in as well. Of such things are blissful lives made.
I'm writing this because for lunch today I had a bowl of the latest batch of the soup. It is genuinely yummy, but it will always have an extra flavour to me. The man that made it for me is going to be my husband in 17 days time, and has followed that soup with many other acts and words and things that show his genuine commitment to the relationship. His respect and love for me amaze me still.
And he makes wonderful chicken soup.
