This time last year I was a single lady preparing to walk down the aisle in a matter of days. Emotions were running high, and it had been weeks since I last saw my groom. We discussed the fact that we weren’t going to get each other anything for Valentine’s Day, but silly me thought we were just saying we weren’t going to get each other something, when in reality we really were. I learned my first lesson in marriage before we even tied the knot: Always say exactly what you mean. Don’t drop hint and don’t expect a hint to magically become reality.
Naive me felt horrible for not getting my betrothed something for Valentine’s Day, so on Saturday the 13th I whipped up a couple dozen cookies, found the last pair of “I’m Too Sexy” boxers on the shelf at Walgreens, packaged it all up and got it on the last shipment out for the day. I still don’t know how it happened, but I actually managed to have the package leave New Mexico and arrive in Georgia on the same day.
And then I waited. I just knew he was going to get me something even though he said he didn’t have any plans. This is the man who routinely makes hearts in pie crusts, has flowers delivered randomly, and calls me every disgustingly cute pet name imaginable. He was going to get me, his wife-to-be-in-less-than-a-week a Valentine’s Day gift, right?
I waited patiently for something to arrive at my door when Sunday, February 14, rolled around. I received a phone call from him, but that was about all. He must have sensed my disappointment (I may have cried a little—don’t blame me, like I said, my emotions were running high six days before my wedding!), because the next day I got a package in the mail.
My future husband sent me—without a card or any type of affectionate note—a tiny plant. A plant that I would have to grow myself. Awesome. Some girls get flowers or chocolate, jewelry, or cards. Me? I get a plant. I may have cried a little when I saw it.
I didn’t know what to do with said plant, so I let it sit in its package until I found a good time to deal with it. Well, low-and-behold, it’s been sitting in it’s package until today when I finally opened it up and decided to give it life.
If I wasn’t so selfish and emotional a year ago, I would’ve noticed that this plant is actually rather cute. And when it grows—oh, how I hope it’ll grow—the little bean will actually sprout and say, “I Love You” on it. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.
So for now this little bud will sit near a window where I’ll give it some extra love and hope it will grow. In a way, I’m happy I didn’t toss it or “accidentally” leave it at home when I packed up and moved to Georgia, because now I get to give it a second chance.