Love is much more than fire and passion

Thirty years.
It seems like a lifetime to someone who changes her toothpaste brand with every tube because she’s sick of the previous one.
And it is a long time, especially for a relationship.
This month marks that anniversary milestone for my parents.
I don’t imagine they’ll do anything most would deem “romantic.” They’re not that kind of couple. They’ll just lump the celebration in with the vacation we took for my birthday in May to keep it simple, without a need for extravagance.
It’s just who they are.
Growing up, my parents were never openly affectionate. They didn’t hold hands or sweep each other off their feet in grand romantic gestures. It was in the smaller — what some may think are insignificant — moments that they showed love.
It’s what helped mold me into the hopeless romantic I am today. (Well, that and the words of every Nicholas Sparks novel.)
Simple actions they take show me that, after all this time, they still care deeply for each other. There are little glimmers of romanticism in their everyday lives.
It’s in the way they give each other a quick kiss hello and goodbye regardless of how angry they may be at each other.
The way they try to remember each other at the grocery store, picking something up for the other.
It’s how their faces light up talking about the past together, remembering details they thought they’d forgotten.
That doesn’t mean it’s always so cordial.
They’ve come close to becoming another statistic. With butting stubborn personalities, my dad will still escape into the garage “to work on the four wheelers” during a disagreement while my mom will instantly be in need of a nap. But it’s the fact that they take time apart so that they come back together that matters.
Sure, it’s not a perfect system, but after three decades, they know the drill.
Their dedication to each other also made my childhood a relatively trauma-less affair. They were there to volunteer for school field trips, and always worked as a team to discipline us. (As the youngest, I didn’t get it quite as bad as my sisters because I realized the loophole — make them laugh hard enough and they won’t have the energy to spank you.)
They provided a loving and supporting home that not everyone is lucky enough to experience. They set me up for an ideal life, and it’s an indebtedness I’ll never be able to repay.
Some want fire and passion in a relationship. My parents show that devotion and just a bit of understanding go much farther.