It might be because I’m a writer at heart, but throughout our marriage, I made a practice of writing little love notes to my dear husband. Just small notes like “Can’t wait for tonight,” “Keep your arms ready until I get home,” or “If your heart feels warm, it’s because I’m loving you.” Sometimes it was just a kiss I put on a paper with freshly lip-sticked lips. They were tucked in his pockets, lunch pails or pinned to his pillow. I knew he liked them, but I didn’t fully realize until I cleaned out his ‘personal’ drawer after his death. There, in the back was a thick envelope with just about every note I had ever written.
The love of my life was not a writer, but he found other small things that brought my heart delight. Every spring he brought me a small hand-picked bunch of violets. One year when our anniversary came around, he was very busy with farm work, but he came in a bit early for supper and asked the older children to baby sit the younger ones while he took me on a drive to the lake for a bit of “us” time. While there, he found a small, smooth black heart-shaped stone. He picked it up. “The water and sand have done a good job of making this beautiful,” he said, “Just like the rough things in our life brings out the beauty of our love.” He tucked it in my blouse.
That little stone wasn’t expensive. It didn’t take months to plan. He just took advantage of the moment after a busy day, to acknowledge our love. I still have that little, smooth, black heart-shaped stone. It still moves my heart with love each time I hold it in my hands. Small things do count.
-Ruth Smith Meyer