Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow! Please?

Come December and the holiday cheer descends upon us and everywhere you look there are people shopping, stores decked out with seasonal items, aisle after aisle of wreaths and Christmas trees and holiday trinkets and candy, houses twinkling with icicle lights, Christmas carols that haunt you long after you've turned the radio off, grocery stores that put out the turkey and the ham, the pie and the cake up front where you can't miss it, and a lot of smiles and good cheer and people in red sweaters.

But everytime I think of Christmas the first thing I picture is a lot of snow. I guess I can blame the stereotype that the media has plagued us with since we were kids. Even back in India the greeting cards featured snow laden roads and Santa's sleigh, mistletoe and a big snowman and kids in boots, cap and sweaters riding sleds on snowy terrain. So when I picture Christmas I always visualize snow and cold and mittens and boots, a warm fireplace, and subzero temperatures. And all the time I've been in the US I've never been disappointed. It always snows.

And then we have something like this. A whopping 70 degree Farenheit a week before Christmas. Bizarre to say the least.

And no, it doesn't feel like Christmas at all.

Crazy little thing called love

You know you've been married for a while when.....

• you meet your husband after a week and you notice lipstick on his collar. And you can joke about it.
• you're having a romantic dinner and your husband is checking out other girls. And you are helping him do it.
  
• you find it highly amusing when you see someone being overly affectionate in public with his spouse. And you assume it is not his wife.
  
• you tell him to start using Rogaine and he tells you to buy some anti-wrinkle cream.
• he forgets your anniversary. And you still forgive him.
• he goes to the night club with a "hot" girl from work and you're not worried.
• you don't rush to do your hair and put on make up just before he gets home but greet him in your PJs and oil in your hair.
• he no longer finds your burnt dinners 'different but delicious'.
• and when his idea of a romantic dinner is take-out chinese, you don't sulk simply because you are glad that you did not have to cook for that one night. Or do the dishes for that matter.

Marriage.

It changes you in more ways than you can imagine.

That's Amore

You are....

the morning sun that streams through and lights up my world
the toothbrush sitting next to mine in a yellow cup
the damp towel flung carelessly across the bathroom floor
and the set of wet footprints leading away from the shower
the messed up closet, the misplaced comb
and the unfinished cup of coffee I find under the sofa
the milk in the cereal bowl that I finish up everyday
and the banana peel that sits on the counter for me to throw away
the hug and the kiss that rushes off to work
the missing car key that I look for each morning
the car at the stop sign that waits till I can catch up
the smile and the wave as I drive past
the concerned phone call that I get if I'm late reaching work
and the relief in the voice when I call every morning
the chocolate in my lunch box, the half eaten candy
the email that gets me smiling
the message that has me worrying
the reassurance that I look for
the call that has me waiting
the song that I am listening to while I'm driving back home
and the car that I keep seeing although I know it's not you
the smile that is waiting when I walk in through that door
the walk by the stream, the flower in my hair
the warm conversation
and the candle in my room
the take-me-out-to dinner
and the smile in my heart
the salad on the table and the mower in the yard
the treadmill in the basement
the toilet that needs fixing
the camera that takes my picture in a hundred different ways
the pictures on the wall that hang in a straight line
the matching cushion covers that lie on the floor
the wallet on the table that has my picture in it
and the carelessly tossed clothes strewn across the floor
the bottle of Jim Beam lying on the counter
the freshly cut amaryllis sitting on the table
the basil in the pasta, the extra spicy sauce
the package that gets delivered
and the surprise on my face
the hand that I'm holding when I walk down a narrow path
and the light that shines through when darkness engulfs
the hope that keeps burning
the answer to my prayers
the soft spot beside me where I can lay down to rest
the hope that keeps me going
and the words that warm my heart
the dreams I snuggle up to
and the last thoughts of the day

you're the
void in my heart right now
the tears in my eyes
the longing to be together
the missed heartbeat

and the one thing I want right now is for you to be back home where you belong.

Time in a Bottle

Disclaimer: This is a very soppy kind of post. So if you're not in the mood you'd be advised to skip it.

You've never been the one for overtly romantic gestures and whispering sweet nothings, yet you've never given me any reason to complain. We've never dated the way most people do, held hands under a table in the restaurant, snuggled in a dark movie theatre oblivious to what was going on screen, dedicated romantic songs to each other on a radio show, had the chocolate-flowers-Valentine's day card kind of romance. And yet, it still filled my heart. And my life. And you've taken me by the hand and walked me through life. Through all these years. And here we are, standing here, remembering the past with fondness and looking at the future wondering what it has in store.

And do you remember those heady days when we'd steal furtive glances across a crowded room and smile when we'd catch each other's eye? Or when we'd wait hours for that one phone call, unable to get anything else done? And write page after page of love-laced letters trying to express what was in the heart. And held hands. And loved. And felt like this was the most perfect thing in the world. And that the world was such a perfect place to live in.

That was then. And this is now.

And we've grown and matured with time. With years of being together and understanding each other. And now we know that the world is not such a perfect place. And that each day is more like a struggle. To get through. To survive and to live. And love is not about holding hands and sweet love letters. And days are more about bills and chores and getting things done. And they are a stream of fixing leaky sinks, working the yard, groceries and laundry and cleaning the house. And quality time is spent doing mundane things. And I have wondered if reality and married life can shove romance out of the window.

But then I just realized something. Love endures. Even in the everyday kind of life. In the morning cup of coffee. In hurried telephone conversations. Over paying the bills and rushing through the grocery store. Through sharing joy and wiping tears. In failures and venting frustration. In a hug. A smile. In our ordinary everyday life. And I realize it now more than anything because you are gone. And there's no joy in living the everyday kind of life. The coffee sits on the kitchen counter, untouched. Bills lay around, unpaid. Unwashed laundry piles up. The house needs cleaning. The bed needs to be made. Food needs to be cooked. And eaten. Life needs to be lived.

I miss the warmth of our mundane existence. I miss having you around.

"If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day
'Til eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you

If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I'd save every day
Like a treasure and then,
Again, I would spend them with you

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go
Through time with

If I had a box just for wishes
And dreams that had never come true
The box would be empty
Except for the memory
Of how they were answered by you" *

* Jim Croce 'Time in a Bottle'

A Dedication

Sometimes it is hard to find words to say what you want to say. And sometimes, words are not enough to express the multitude of emotions that you may be feeling. But if I could for once make you understand, have you see and hear and feel, this is probably what I would be saying:

"I hope the days come easy and moments pass slow,
and each road leads you where you want to go,
and if you're faced with a choice, and you have to choose,
I hope you choose the one that means the most to you.
And if one door opens to another door closed,
I hope you keep on walkin' till you find the window,
if it's cold outside, show the world the warmth of your smile,

But more than anything, more than anything,
My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
your dreams stay big, your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
and while you're out there getting where you're getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too,
Yeah, this, is my wish.

I hope you never look back, but you never forget,
all the ones who love you, and the place you left,
I hope you always forgive, and you never regret,
and you help somebody every chance you get,
Oh, you find God's grace, in every mistake,
and always give more than you take.

But More than anything, Yeah, more than anything,
My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
your dreams stay big, your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
and while you're out there getting where you're getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too,
Yeah, this, is my wish. Yeah.

My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
your dreams stay big, your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
and while you're out there getting where you're getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too,
Yeah, this, is my wish. " *

* Rascal Flatts "My Wish"