The Perfect Day…
He would make me french toast in the morning. Not just any french toast, it was thick-sliced like the Texas toast bread. He would put cinnamon and spices just like the Grandma Cinnamon French Toast they used to make at Carrows, but this was top level. It had a slight crisp edge and buttery, flaky, soft innards. It had the perfect cinnamon swirl, as always. It was piping hot, just enough to burn you, not sear you. Then he would serve me the most delectable hot chocolate. It was more like hot milk with a taste of chocolate. He would find it absolutely appalling. Hot chocolate was supposed to taste like rich chocolate. But, he did it for me. I had an addiction to hot milk. It just sets the day right for me. And, of course, the swirl of whipped cream on top. He knows I hate that disgusting cherry they put on top at the restaurants, so he always puts a nice, big dark chocolate kiss on top instead. He loves me. This is how I know he loves me. No one would ever go through such great lengths to gift me the perfect day.
After we (I) finish our (my) french toast, we go our separate ways to *create.* I go into the kitchen and he goes into the studio. He is a professional chef, and I am a writer. So, we create something from the other’s specialty. It’s our love language. Today I am baking him a gâteau St. Honoré with a pot of fresh earl grey loose leaf tea. I have always dreamed of making this cake, and he has an absolute affinity for baked French goods and French desserts. It’s how we met, honestly.
In the studio, he will craft me a love story. I am a fantasy/tragedy short fiction gal myself, but he loves a good romance story. Yes, we express our love by getting involved in each other’s careers and passions, but we do it within our capacities and interests of our own, too. After we’re finished crafting our love, we present and share it with the other. I find it so utterly romantic. I can’t wait for the story he crafted me.
At the end of the day, we will watch a good movie or show, and he will pour us some wine. We will snuggle up on the couch with our warm, plush blankets, and then we will get to bed and have the deepest sleep of our lives.
This day is “spontaneous.” We do this once almost every month. It’s when the stress becomes so unbelievably unbearable. We cancel everything in our calendars and commit to this day. We think and do absolutely nothing else. Our stress and the stress of tomorrow and yesterday are completely obliterated. I know, you’re thinking of two things: He’s a chef. He is so overbearingly stressed. This has to happen more than once a month. Yes, occasionally, it can. But this man has an incredible tolerance for stress and pain. It can be scary at times. And you’d think, well, you’re just a writer. That isn’t comparable stress levels. Well, yes, but I have an extremely volatile range and depth of emotions that I keep locked hidden until I break and bleed over everything and everyone. It’s tragic, really. But this exercise of ours helps me from destroying everything in our lives. It gives me something to look forward to, especially, the spontaneity of it all. We have no idea when this ‘Day Break’ will occur, but we know it will. It’s quite exciting. But yes, that is my perfect day.