When the gentle breezes of summer evenings blow, I'm captured by their lilt and intoxicating aroma. I long for moonlit walks ending in passionate kisses and secluded outdoor rendezvous. Something about the evening breezes of summer put me in a romantic mood. But you know how often those summer breezes have translated into nights of passion? Few. Very, very few.
It's not like these moments never happen. In twenty-five years together we've collected a few special memories. Before having children, we once spent all night on the floor of our living room, the only light being the soft glow from our Christmas tree. It was so beautiful, it still makes me sigh. We've enjoyed slow dances, my nose nuzzling his neck, soaking in his glorious familiar scent, the music and the swaying and his tight hold making me nearly float. We've stood entwined on a balcony overlooking the ocean, the moon shimmering on the waves below. We've taken advantage of an empty house with music and candles and taking our sweet time. We made memories in the moonlight on our 25th anniversary.
But these moments aren't the norm. Hardly. If I long for them too much, I put unrealistic expectations on my husband and am left feeling disappointed. Is there a way to find romance in the every day? Is it possible for small fixes to hold us over for the spectacular moments that are few and far, far between?
I say yes. I say we just need to open our eyes to romance living in little things. It's him looking at you from across the living room and saying, "You wanna come sit by me?" It's getting cozy on the couch and hearing, "I like this." It's in heart-felt words like "I'm so proud of you" and "You are beautiful." It's the gentle way we stake our claim on the other in public, him slipping his arm around my waist, me running my hand up under his sleeve, actions no one else would have the right to do. It's sighs when we part for the day, the goodby kiss seeming inadequate. It's clearing the table and taking the kids to school when it's not your turn. It's honest words without fear. The beauty of romance is there if we open our eyes and risk uttering what's in our hearts.
I sat next to my husband in church yesterday and snuggled in under his arm. As I rested my hand on his leg, I noticed it's looking older, the veins more prominent, the skin looser, a few age spots appearing. But before I could lament over it, my husband, having no clue what I was thinking, not even looking at me or his lap, put his hand on top, tangling his fingers with mine. And it occurred to me that no matter how old my hand looks, his will always be grabbing it. He doesn't see the age or the wrinkles or the spots (or maybe doesn't care). He only wants my hand.
Even sitting in church can be romantic.
Perfect settings and candles and soft music and flowers are wonderful, but not necessary for romance. Having these kinds of expectations only sets us up for disappointment.
True romance requires a keen sense of appreciation for the little things.
How do you find romance in your every day?
Read more about romance at Chrysalis.