A Muddy Adventure in the Name of Love

When I was growing up in the 1970s, there was a cartoon in the newspapers by Kim Casali called, “love is…” I used to cut them out and save them in a photo album so that I would know what unconditional love looked like when I was ready to look for it. I’ve never needed flowers or candy to know that I am loved, and Kevin and I don’t typically exchange Valentine’s gifts or even cards. We had a special dinner in Rome this year since it was a great excuse to do so, but we don’t generally need a reason.

If I were to do my own elongated version of “love is,” I’d say, love is…

…picking your wife off of the muddy ground and heading home even though you really wanted a cup of cappuccino and a hat because the sun has been blazing on your head and it’s hard to be outside without one.

…brushing off all the dried mud from her pants and her elbows, even though you’re a neat freak and don’t like to get your literal hands dirty.

…pounding her shoes together and scrubbing them with as little water as possible because you know those are the only practical pair she’s carrying.

…taking her muddy pants and socks and scrubbing them down in the sink and then laying them all out on a rack to dry in the sun.

…hosing down the towel you used to clean everything so your wife doesn’t have to do a thing except shower and change into fresh clothes.

…coming back squeaky clean and immediately writing this love note to let my husband know that these acts of service are the best ways to show me what love is, and I’m so glad to be on this crazy, wonderful adventure with him for the last forty plus years.