Sappy Love Notes


From Random Inspired Essays

Are you sappy? My husband and I are a little sappy. Okay, a lot sappy. We’ve been married for ten years and are still saps for one another. How sappy are we, you ask? We’re this sappy: we keep a greeting card tucked away in the coffee cabinet and randomly pull it back out, add a new sentiment, and leave it by the other’s mug for when they wake up. Are you gagging on the sap yet?

With Valentine’s Day around the corner, I’ve been reflecting on our lovey loveness. I decided I’m not going to put out an official V-day post because, well, aren’t we bombarded enough? I’ve got enough going on in February as it is. But it did inspire me to dig up some old love notes and such. I thought I might share one now, pre-bombardment.

This was written during one of my husband’s deployments to the Middle East. For four long months, I was home alone with our one-year-old daughter. Part of me is surprised it didn’t inspire more writings than this…but then again, I was home alone with our one-year-old daughter.

Anyway, I give you a sappy love note.


Your Robe

On a whim, I slipped into your robe today. I hadn’t thought to before as I have several of my own to choose from, but I was suddenly compelled to wear yours. It smells like you. Not exactly you you, but it smells like…well, like your robe.

It smells like cool morning light and a lingering kiss on the neck…
It smells like getting out of bed then changing our minds….
It smells like groggy weekend hugs in the kitchen while the coffee brews…
It smells like Saturday morning silliness with the baby…
It smells like a winter holiday snuggled together against the chill…
It smells like watching TV in the evening after the kitchen is clean and the house is quiet…
It smells like the late night favor of running the cans down to the curb…

It smells like us.
It smells like home.
It smells like love.

*

Thanks for reading.


2 Comments

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  1. We love sappy ❤️. Since 1963, ooodles of Hallmark sap, sappy chocolates, and–wait for it–“You can never have enough earrings!” (And diamonds, too.) 56 years of sticky, “Honey-do” sap. I’m inextricably stuck. And I love it.

    Like

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