My daughter came home for Christmas. She brought a guy. We knew he was coming, so we washed an extra plate.
Then he got down on one knee in front of the whole family and asked her to marry him. And it was so romantic. So then we didn’t have time for Christmas because we had to think about weddings and how cute little mason canning jars would look at the reception. This happened a few years ago, and we spent the entire vacation trying to decide what color to dye the sugar. Because, naturally, we would need sugar to sand the rim of the jars. And we knew how cute the canning jars would look with colored sugar on the rim because we saw 4000 pictures on Pinterest. Eventually, we went with painted rings, but during Christmas, we saw wedding dresses and favors and cakes and invitations and a thousand, thousand other things she would absolutely need to be considered properly married.
I frankly could have done with a lot less Pinterest and a little more help cleaning the dishes, but I digress.
Basically, we ignored Christmas that year, because you only get married once and Christmas comes around every single year, don’t you know.
In reality, this particular girl had worn an engagement ring before. In fact, the last ring costs ten times what this ring did and she gave it back. (Wise decision!!) But she still had the dress from the first engagement, but, of course, she couldn’t wear a dress purchased with another guy in mind. She needed to visualize this wedding and do what was right for this relationship and so it was all very emotionally complicated, and I couldn’t possibly understand because I had never been in love.
“Well,” I thought, “Let me tell you about love. Let me explain real love to you. You see, just that week there was true love demonstrated right here in your very own home.”
On December 23, the day before the busiest cooking day of the year, my dishwasher had broken down.
And while the rest of the family went shopping, this man, who I wed without benefit of sugar-rimmed mason jars, went out and bought me a brand new dish rack. That’s right, a dish rack that I could set on the counter and put dishes in after I had hand washed them. A festive red color that matched absolutely nothing in my kitchen.
“Here,” he said.
Apparently, that’s the kind of romantic gesture you get from a guy who knows nothing about Pinterest. But I didn’t complain, not until after New Years. And if that’s not true love, I don’t know what is.