When he walks in the door that evening, the first thing he sees is the twelve pack of coke on the table—a gold bow on its top, the front torn off, and the first two cans in the refrigerator. He tosses back his tired face in a laugh and wraps his arms around me. “Thank you.” He breathes into my shoulder. “This seriously makes my day.”
Mine too. Because today, I feel like more than a grocery shopper or a pie baker or a kitchen cleaner-upper. I feel like love. I am certain it’s the attitude behind what I do that transforms duties and chores into love. Some days I get to be love when I do third grade homework, pay the bills, or scoop the cat litter. Some days it is when I write a card, send a voicemail, or bake a cherry pie.
And maybe every now and then, I get to be love when I serve up a twelve pack of coke.