If you really look, romance is there.
Romance, what is it? I guess that’s an age old question that really bares no proper answer. It’s an idea made up in the minds of people that need to have something extraordinary to solidify what they already know. It doesn’t have to be that way. Romance doesn’t have to be with a mate. It doesn’t have to be candles and strumming outside a window. It can be whatever you think it is. It can be what you already see without really seeing it.
Where do I find romance?
Romance is when my husband comes home late from work and I feed him warm chicken nuggets and he takes the kids outside to play by the light of the headlights of his pickup while I clean up. It’s in his laugh as he pushes them on the swings and nearly has a seizure due to the flashing of their shadows over the blinding halogen. It’s in his joy at watching the three little ones run around in the grass just to show him that they can. It’s in the shrill of their giggles as they fall and run and step in dog poop. That’s romance.
Romance is holding my daughters hand at 2am in a full size bed in her room because she is a light sleeper and loves me so much she just wants that extra little bit of me. It’s in the way she reaches for my skin to reassure her that there is life right next to her and she is safe. It’s right there, in her breath on my arm, while she dreams and my hips and back ache from being in the same position for hours. That is romance.
Romance is waving good-bye to my husband every morning, no matter what we were doing. It’s sending him off with joy on our faces although we have clouds in our hearts that he’s gone. It’s there when he turns around after a tearful FaceTime call from one late sleeper that didn’t get to wave. It’s in that daddy coming back home, just to kiss that snotty sad face and wave one more time. It’s in the smile and happiness of that sad little boy knowing just how special he is. That’s romance.
Romance is in the way my oldest son touches me mindlessly when he’s tired. His little touches and arm strokes remind me of all the tickle touches I’ve given him over his nearly 5 years of life. It’s in those sleep drunk eyes and late night whispers of dreams and hopes. It’s when he confides in me that he doesn’t want to get old because then I’ll get old and that someday he’ll have to miss me. That’s romance.
Or, romance is watching my son learn how to peel potatoes and enjoying him just soaking up every word his gramma says to him while he takes his new task so seriously. It’s in those moments, the everyday, easy to miss moments. That’s romance.
Romance is in the moments that surprise us. The moments that make our hearts ache with longing for them to last forever. Romance is in the moments that hold ordinary magic, the gas tank he fills before returning the car, the bathroom that smells like pee because another child is potty training, the tiny finger prints on the freshly cleaned window, eating popcorn for dinner because snuggling kids is more important in that moment than nutrition.
Romance is exactly where you see it and it will never be in a life of someone that is too busy or worried about imaginary ideas to see it.
Romance is there. It’s just waiting to be seen, acknowledged and nurtured.
Look. Choose. See.