WARNING Since I ranted and raved on Valentine’s Day, I’ve decided to write a more appropriate post today. Sorry if I make you puke.
As a scatterbrained, creative-type, I tend to have a lot ofmoments in which I have to make myself stop and just think about what’s going on around me. You may not be able to tell that my gears are grinding away, but if you catch me with a zoned-out look on my face and my mouth open just enough to stick a piece of chocolate in there…I’m probably having a moment.
I had one of those on Sunday as I watched Paul make soap. That’s right, soap. Uncolored, naturally scented lye soap. He weighed and measured oils, heated them on the stove, mixed lye with water, and mixed it all together. As I stood there (trying to wrangle a crazily squirmy baby) watching him methodically stir the soap, I was overcome with the feeling of being in total awe of my husband.
I’ll never forget sitting in the passenger seat of my friend’s car, (back when I’d just met Paul and had no idea that I’d ever actually be with him, let alone get married to him) wondering what it would be like to be with this guy who does what he wants and goes about everything ever-so-logically.
Isn’t it weird to think about our significant others before they met us? Even if you’re currently single, think back to previous partners. Isn’t that just weird? Back when Paul used to make soap regularly, he had no idea who I was. He had a life full of people and routines that I knew nothing about. This person is one of the absolute most important people in my life; how could we possibly have not known about each other?
As I watched Paul make this soap, I felt like I was stepping back into a time I never knew; like I was watching a documentary. This is a little thing from his past that makes him who he is; that makes him the man I am so completely in love with. I’m so excited to discover more of these little tidbits of Paul in the future. It’s kind of like starting winter and finding a twenty in the pocket of a coat you haven’t worn in years.
I’m looking forward to reaching into all of your coat pockets, Paul. And I’m not being dirty. I love you.