This weekend Hubs and I made plans for a romantic getaway. I booked our night out weeks ago, dedicated to our new challenge: date nights at least 1-2 times a month. I got the Airbnb reminder notification this past Thursday and thought HURRAY! It’s all going according to plan.
Then Hubs got a stomach bug. Then I got it. And then we cancelled our dinner reservations. And then we ate soup and Utz pretzels with ginger ale. And I fell asleep on the softest, coziest little couch an Airbnb can offer. But I fell asleep super early.
When I woke up the next morning, our entire evening had drained away. And I stood in the little kitchenette of our home-away-stay and cried.
But then, like a soft breeze that brushes past a petal or two, I realized something:
I had so much to be grateful for.
Hubs warmed the soup. And he poured the ginger ale. And he didn’t complain or whine or say anything negative.
“This is life,” he said.
I thought of that and felt peaceful, standing in the kitchenette. Staring at tan tiles and a wood block countertop.
And I was so thankful.
Sometimes love is just being present. It’s being kind and thoughtful when the whole perfect plan goes down the toilet.