We interrupt your regularly scheduled Awkward Mom for love letter awkward....oh so much more awkward....
What is romance? Is it all those kissing-in-the-rain scenes from movies; the music swelling with the storm drains? Lingering looks in shadowy rooms? That parting overhead swirling shot of an endless embrace that fades into credits? Maybe. But not always.
I think romance is changing the 44th diaper of the day and still being interested in what someone else did at work. Reading books on opposite ends of the couch in easy quiet. Taking off your partner's glasses after he/she falls asleep in a heap next to the crib. Washing someone else’s socks. Sure, it’s I-love-yous, but it is also how-did-that-presentation-gos and wow-this-is-tastys. I think romance opens doors and closes the books left on sleeping chests, remembering to stick in a bookmark. Romance drives you the spare key when you lock yours in the car and doesn’t complain too much about it. I think romance is endless and strong and slow and hanging around after the credits, even if the soundtrack is the Wheels on the Bus on a loop.
Sure, there is still room in the daily tired for romance of the flowers and passion kind, but that isn’t where romance lives. It might visit there on occasion, but true romance lives in the million tiny touches that make up a union. The little overlapping gestures and words that weave together and make something stronger than a swooping crane shot and a catchy tune.
Of course, none of this is gonna prevent me from watching Casablanca for the 800th time later tonight, knowing that when I fall asleep about the time they sing la Marseillaise, my own Humphrey Bogart is gonna make sure my glasses aren't cutting into my nose, as he covers me with a blanket and turns off the light.
Ugh...aren't they cute and all that? OK, we will return you to your regularly scheduled Awkward Mom, and as soon as she wakes up, we are sure she'll have some tripping tales to tell you.