September 12, 2018

True Love Bites

     After I drafted this post, I thought how some might find the title deceptive.  No. I will not trash the concept of true love, this or any day.  After all, I write historical romantic suspense novels set in paradise, don't I?
     Rather, I mean to show the depth of love my husband, Bruce, has for me.  You see, after I slathered the last of the raspberry jelly on one slice of his morning toast, I opened a fresh store-bought jar of the same flavor.  That's when I compared labels.  One was full tilt, meaning lots of sugar added.  The other had no extra sugar added.  I was curious to see the difference in flavor between them.  Since there was no more in the one jar, the only way to taste them both was to take bites of Bruce's toast slices.  I went so far as to ask his permission, although he would have probably taken notice of the rounded chunks missing from each and inquired.  Well, with no hesitation, my sweet man granted my wish.  While I can't remember how much of a difference between the sugared and less-sugared jellies there was, I can and will always remember what I can only describe as an act of true love.
     I have to had that, as a child, my father used to let me spoon the juice aka yoke out of his fried eggs, often, on Saturday mornings.  He would eat the less than appetizing remains of the eggs, afterward.  
     You may tag me as spoiled rotten, but I prefer to see the true love in these generous acts. 
     I might add how Brucie will occasionally utter the phrase, "You know, I've never had a complete meal to myself in all our years of marriage."  Then he smiles at me.