Gifts

We were both feeling restless and in need of a project.

He had vacation days to burn, so he took the week off and decided to do something that felt significant to our home.

There isn't much to do with a house we don't own or have any permanent connection to, but the urge to make it reflect who we are as a family persists.

He found the boys a bunk bed and drove three hours round-trip to pick it up, but aside from that, the week turned out to mostly be about me. He tackled projects I chose.

He stayed up until 5 a.m. to paint the livingroom just because I wanted a change.

He bought me a new chandelier for the dining room, because I said I had been dreaming of something pretty, with crystals and iron -- something that could be part of this home and part of the next one, wherever and whenever that will be.

We both crave things that we can hold onto in this transient life we're choosing.

Today I sit humbled amid these revised walls on the eve of celebrating my 36th year, wondering why he, who has given me so much over these years and miles together, would once again bend to my frivolity with gifts of paint, sweat and hardware.

He loves me dearly. I am wholly undeserving, but entirely thankful that he does.