Eat, Pray, Pesto Stain
Since celebrating my anniversary yesterday, I've been thinking about my love for my husband. One thing I don't love is his shirt with the pesto stain. It didn't always have a pesto stain, but I still thought it was ugly. Jim, on the other hand, adored this shirt.
The day it got the stain, we were eating some pesto before heading out. He was wearing his beloved ugly shirt. When he dropped the pesto, I thought, "Yes! Now he has to change!" I didn't say this out loud, but as if he knew, he looked at me defiantly and said, "I'm not changing."
I said, "Okay."
Because I'm still proud to be by his side in an ugly, stained shirt. In fact, it almost makes me love him more. Because it shows I love him in spite of him. Which reminds me that he loves me in spite of me.
(Like the time he thought a pet pooped in our bathtub when really it was just a stray squirt of "leg makeup" I use to keep vampire hunters from stabbing a stake through my heart. But I digress...)
Later I told Jim how excited I was when he dropped the pesto because I thought it meant he was going to change. We got a good laugh out of it.
These are the little things I remember with a smile on my face. Even when he put the shirt on this last weekend.
I love him. All of him. And really, it wouldn't be love if I didn't.