I sort of mucked up this act of love. I planned on roasting marshmallows with you in the backyard over the grill after the girls went to bed. But, we didn’t have charcoal and I didn’t want to buy any. (Money was tight that week. Surprised?) We did have marshmallows, though. We always have them on hand. Always. (Just like chocolate chips). I’m not a fan of them, but you and the girls are. Anyhow, I thought we could roast them over our gas burners on the stovetop instead.
When the girls were finally in bed, we were both exhausted and simply needed to put our feet up or go to bed. But I wanted to get my act of love done.
“Would you like to roast marshmallows with me in the kitchen?” I asked.
“No, I’m too tired.”
“Will you just do it, though? I need to do an act of love today and this is all I’ve got.”
As an act of duty, really, we both dragged ourselves to the kitchen and each roasted a marshmallow.
“Do you want mine? I’m not really in the mood for a marshmallow,” you said.
“No, I’m not really a fan of them. I was going to ask you if you wanted mine . . . Okay, just give me yours. I’ll eat them both. We shouldn’t waste them.”
I started eating my marshmallow and my eyes lit up. “I love marshmallows!” I exclaimed. You laughed. I quickly finished mine and started on yours. “Why have I been depriving myself of these? They’re delicious!”