How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

      Elizabeth Barrett Browning, in Sonnet 43 written in 1850, found a bunch of them for her particular relationship.  So, this morning, when Paula said she loved me, I asked that she enumerate the reasons.

     "Good looks?" I asked.  She thought for a moment, "Well, no, I mean, you're not really ugly or anything, but let's put that one to the side."

    "Gee," I said, "Glad we got that one out of the way.  OK, money?"

    "Oh, that's not so important, and having just done the finances for the 2025 taxes, I'm not sure you'd be considered a great catch by a lot of women for such a very superficial reason, so skip that one also."

    "Like, for instance, what proportion generally would not think the money thing?"

    "I dunno, like 99.4% or so in your specific case."

     "OK, what's next?  You can skip my dancing ability and proclivity."  [Note:  early in the marriage we agreed that if I learned to dance, she'd learn to ski.  Large zero on both.]

    "Well, you've been faithful to me.  That counts a lot."

    "Yeah, but you could have gotten that from a Golden Retriever."

    "Sure, but I didn't have to house train you.  Mostly."

    "So skip that.  Why else would you love me?"

    She thought for a moment, and that turned into a little while.  "I'm thinking, OK?" and she tried to change the subject.   

    "I know!" she finally exclaimed, "You do the dishes and I don't even have to ask you!"

     So, in the end, having not even recognized it along the way during our 48 years of happy marriage, I earned the love of my beautiful wife by doing the dishes.  It was that simple!  If only more men realized that they could be loved for that one easy thing, skipping all the rest.  Man, I ought to write a book! 

 

     "Like that, you mean?  Just do dishes?!  I'm going to make a killing on this book thing!"

     "OK, you need to step back a couple of steps.  'Doing dishes' is like saying that you could be a great musician just by learning 'Mary Had a Little Lamb.'  The fact that you wash some plates and scrub out some pots is great, but it's only a part of a much bigger picture."

     "Uh, oh, does this mean I'm about to get a much more nuanced (longer, boring) explanation of how it works?"

    "Doing dishes, or helping with the laundry, or spreading compost for me, those are great, but so are helping me with my church assignments, and gently looking past my quirks.  You let me pursue things that I think are important.  You make me feel pretty by your side, and you quietly push me to be my best self."

     "That's because I sincerely love you, and that's grown through the years as I've figured out what a really good person you are.  And it doesn't hurt that you're still cute."

     "OK, now that we've expanded your perspective a bit, the dishes still need washed.  I need to work on my lesson for church next week."

     So, happily up to my forearms in suds, I got to work on scrubbing a pot and loading the dishwasher,  and thinking about what she said.  This book thing is going to need some work.

 

Dave