Love is weird. . . . a good weird.
Last night, while staring at my wife, in what would otherwise be a mundane moment, an overwhelming thought came over me.
She, in her dainty way, held the menu for the pizza place down the street, trying to decide what she wanted. Her elegant fingers held it with both hands, as she sat cross-legged, head tilted to the side ever so slightly in that way of hers.
The thought that came over me was that there is nothing more precious than my wife. How is it that a moment so mundane can place your mind into such a serene place? You’d think it would be when she’s dressed in some sexy way, but it isn’t. It’s the mundane moments that make love grand.
Just like Robin Williams’ character in Good Will Hunting says:
. . . that’s the shit I remember: wonderful stuff you know? Little things like that. . . . The little idiosyncrasies that only I know about: that’s what made her my wife. Oh she had the goods on me too, she knew all my little peccadilloes.