A Bowl of Soup

Love can look like many things. There are those big, bold expressions of love. Flowers, dinner, a special gift. Celebrations and reminders of where you’ve been and how you’ve grown together.

Other times it looks like a basket of laundry that’s folded, a dishwasher emptied, counters wiped clean. Reminders of a partnership, that sometimes a 50/50 balance isn’t possible and love is carrying an extra load for a while.

And then there are other smaller gestures of love. I’ve continued to struggle after my (traumatic) tooth extraction earlier this week. I’ve been ok with Advil or Tylenol. Not pain-free but bearable. But then when it wears off, I’m throbbing again. More Advil, wait for it to kick in, the cycle continues. I haven’t slept more than 2 hours in a row since Sunday.

Jason knows my history of teeth pain. He’s been there through more than a half-dozen “hot” teeth resulting in 10 root canals, three extractions, two dry sockets, over a dozen crowns, an apicoectomy and countless worried days and nights about every little ache in my teeth. This week is something he’s used to, even though he’s never had teeth pain. He knows how to talk me down when I worry it will never get better, gets up countless times in the middle of the night to get me a cold coke or a bottle of water or my antibiotics or hold my hand while I cry. Gently reminding me that crying just makes it worse. Making meals. Coordinating all the things. Becoming the captain of our ship until I come out on the other side. We do teeth pain well.

And today was a time when a small gesture of love felt greater than a big, bold celebration of love. Jason had a quart of delicious, warm broccoli cheddar soup from Panera delivered right to our door. Can you imagine? I think it’s one of the best things I’ve ever eaten in all my life.

Love. Big, bold celebrations. Carrying more weight when the other cannot. Small gestures that feel bigger than big ones.

And knowing that a bowl of soup = true love.