Love Language

Family and out-of-town cousins eager to open presents. Four grown up offspring eyeing plump stockings dangling from the mantelpiece.  

The Beloved (aka  

) wields a mop with vigour.

Sis-in-law is puzzled. “Why is he sweeping the floor?”

“He’s mopping,” I tell her.

Sis-in-law looks around. “But the place is clean.”

“I’ll be

 

,” The Beloved announces.

Sis-in-law laughs. “  

my brother-in-law sweeps while the stockings and presents are waiting.”

“He vacuumed. He’s mopping now,” I interject. “And one man’s oddness is someone else’s love language, you know!”

I’m on a roll. “  

.  A spotless house and  washroom is his gift of love.”

The giggles cease.

Love language, huh?  Hmm …  

A light bulb comes on.  I hear daughters’ voices , then mine, in my head –

“Why do you spend so much time folding napkins and arranging cutlery?  It’s just a table, Mom. Who cares?”

Who cares?  Who cares??

“I care. It’s  how I show my guests they are honoured and appreciated. It’s my gift –  

that only I can give  

, and I

giving it.

I begin to wonder.  Is love why I spend hours

– Decorating the Christmas tree

– Creating a one-of-a-kind gift  

 

– Setting a table for my guests

– Making my garden a

to relax and rest in

– Preparing for a surprise birthday party  

?  Is love why hubby vaccums and mops like crazy when

?  Daughters and nieces squeal over sundry items in their stockings.  A   

washes over me.  I

My eyes  smile into hubby’s.

We’re the

, darling!  I

Some folks won’t

.  Crazy compulsions in others’ eyes – his love language and mine.

What is your love language, Reader?  

, right?  So  

Well, here’s to what’s left of

and to dreams come true in 2016.

and happy New Year!

PS –

and