Most days neither of us remembers to water the plants, which is why they sit drooping and brown in every corner of our house. On the rare occasion this week I think to water them, I tell Andy proudly and he reveals he just watered them an hour ago. We laugh as our plants curse us through their varying extremes of satiation and deprivation.
Ironically, we’re great at feeding ourselves. Brussels sprouts are my new obsession; one of the many things Andy has given me. He’s helped my taste buds mature but he’s knocked my sense of humor back down to elementary school. It’s called balance.
We cook like we were born with spatulas in our hands, but it’s a craft we’ve honed together. We like our sprouts extra crispy and our pasta spicy and each other side by side. We high five when dinner is edible, which it always is. We are King and Queen of this castle we bought together. We barely have a yard and our windows practically look into the next house, but when we’re together we own all of Tennessee.
The two cats we rescued are as weird as we are; one licks the couch and the other sucks on a blanket while we watch reality shows as a family. A seemingly average weekday turns perfect when we’re all within a foot of each other, and Intervention plays in the background of some of my very best memories.
Sometimes we drink too much wine and fall in love all over again. I thank him for empowering me and he thanks me for believing in him. Sometimes we’re not on the same page at all and we scream; I can’t see his logic and he can’t feel my emotions. All of the time I say, “I love you three” and he says he loves me forever.