Because I Want to Remember the Omelet He Made Me

A million tiny moments make up a marriage. Today we both worked mostly from home, and by 2:00 PM had neglected to eat lunch.

“I will make us omelets!” he declares. 
Later, he calls me to the kitchen table where I find an omelet bursting with sautéed onion, bacon, cheese, salsa–everything my heart would want in an omelet.
So we ate omelets together.

It was peaceful. 

“This is the best omelet I’ve ever had,” I report. 
“What made it so great?” he asks.
I tell him that it’s definitely the onion, but what I really mean is that it’s all of it–the plates given as wedding gifts 15 years ago, the home we’ve made, the cats sleeping there. It’s all of it–this whole life we have together. 

In this ordinary day, I put the plate in the dishwasher and leave to pick up our daughters from school.

Tonight, we’ll have spaghetti and enact our bedtime routine. It’s just another Wednesday in our marriage that layers up on top of the nearly 800 Wednesdays we’ve shared over the years.

And today we ate omelets. I wrote about them because I want to remember this beautiful, ordinary day of marriage.

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