Two nights ago, I flipped the “needy” switch on in my voice and turned to Brian.
Me, “Brian? Could you get me my pills… and some water… and some freshly baked cookies?”
Me, “No. Or brownies…”
Brian, “We don’t have any of that stuff. You want me to go get you some?”
Me, “No. Noooooo, we don’t have it because I don’t buy it. If it’s in the house I’ll eat it.”
Brian, “I can go to the store right now.”
Me, “Nah, don’t worry about it.”
You see, when I was little, my momma taught me the difference between “wanting” something and “needing” something. I never NEED chocolate chip cookies (though sometimes it feels that way), while, yes, I do need nourishment throughout the day. Expressing my craving to Brian was really just my way of being whiny and getting attention. In a few minutes I had fallen asleep anyway, so it’s not like I couldn’t put off the sweet tooth for a while.
But last night? Last night I walked through the door and noticed a familiar smell in the air:
The phone conversation that had preceded my arrival went like this:
Me, “Brian, I just wanted you to know that I’m heading to the grocery store before I go home. I need orange juice and bananas for my smoothies. Text me if you need anything.”
Brian, “Nah, I don’t need anything. But I did just make you some cookies.”
Me, “YOU DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIID?!”
Brian, “Yeah, I wanted them to be warm when you got home.”
My heart felt like putty, absolute putty. It still does. I’ve had two cookies this morning already. It means so much to be heard by my husband, especially regarding the insignificant stuff. As it turns out, that stuff is more significant than I thought.