Love handed me a fairy tale...

The Valentine's Day that our daughter turned 2 was marked by much more love than money. My husband and I were determinedly trying to establish ourselves as young adults, and we made some mistakes along the way. Where we were then was in a wee cozy house and riddled with debt. Since our daughter was small, I worked very little. He worked hard and long, but the ends? They didn't meet.

I remember that on Valentines night that year my husband worked late. I fed our daughter supper, gave her a bath, put both of us in our flannel nightgowns and then I laid down in bed to read her stories and snuggle until she fell asleep. Chris came home just as the baby was nodding off. He kissed us both and firmly said, "Don't get up until I come get you." The needle on my nosiness meter swung firmly into the red zone. I could hear him rattle around in the kitchen. I heard the shower turn on. I heard him bumping around in the family room. Furniture scraped on the hard wood floor. Mysterious thumping and bumping noises had me jumping out of my skin with curiosity. I knew full well that there was no money in our budget for romantic gifts, it was late and we were both tired. What in the world was he up to?

After an interminably long wait he came to the bedroom. Freshly showered and wearing his only suit and newly shined shoes, he smelled of soap and aftershave. There I was with bed head, wearing a threadbare granny gown. He extended his hand to me and helped from the bed where our sleeping baby lay as if I were a princess being handed out of a carriage. His eyes were twinkling as he led me to the family room.

He had transformed that toy strewn place by pushing all the furniture against the walls, turning off the lights, and putting little white candles on every window sill, table or other horizontal surface. To one side of the room was the tiny table where my daughter colored or played with clay. On it was a single rose, a bottle of the cheapest champagne money could buy and a tiny shrimp ring. Next to that was a box of chocolates the size of a deck of cards. The air was filled with music; he had arranged some of our favorite love songs.

It was then that we danced. My darling husband took me in his arms and whirled me around to the strains of music thrumming through the room. The magic of candle light made me believe, for a while, that my nightgown was a party dress, that this room was a dance floor. I felt beautiful and most of all, cherished. Though neither of us can dance, that night we soared. And we dined on seafood and chocolate and sipped bubbly wine. There right in the middle of an ordinary life, love handed me a fairy tale.