I'm sorry I didn't get you anything for Valentine's Day, he said to me before leaving for work this morning.
What are you talking about, I replied. You took me out to dinner on Sunday night. I'm the one who didn't get you anything. I made you banana pancakes...I trailed off.
Because the truth of the matter is that I made him banana pancake batter. He turned it into banana pancakes.
And that, right there, is why I know he is my better half. And why Ben + Anna is better as Benanna. Because we finish each other's banana pancakes.
After almost nine years together, Valentine's day is no longer about roses and chocolates and mix CDs (although I have a great one of those from our first Valentine's day together - and it is timeless). My fifteen-year-old self would be horrified that we let those things go these days. Because that self thought that love and romance was all about chocolate and roses.
These days, I'm grateful for every moment that we get to spend together. Our life is not glamorous. It is not filled with champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries. We do not make time for extravagant romantic dinners or dress up to go out on Saturday evenings. Our love story is written in grocery shopping dates and snuggles in sweatpants on the sofa as we laugh together at our favorite shows or the antics of Aslan (while we give voice to his thoughts) on a Friday night. It sparkles with random kisses, welcome home hugs every day, kitchen conversations, and cheering each other through the joys and challenges of being a twenty-something. Knowing that my best friend has my back and feeling proud to have his gives me a bigger thrill than 100 bars of 85% dark chocolate.
And those are the things that I remember fondly on Valentine's day, but would rather celebrate every. single. day of the rest of the year.
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