The Vase
But I think it’s very nice, JD said trailing a few feet behind me.
I stopped in my tracks, turned to face him, and tried to reason. Yes, I said, it’s lovely, but must we spend that much on a vase? Surely in this big store lies another vase that’s not as expensive.
I faced forward and began walking. I hate feeling like the frugal one in this duo. I know I have issues with spending money on certain things—like vases for instance, or name brand raisins for that matter—but the roots of my financial paranoia go deep. Like Yosemite Redwood deep.
I grew up poor. I am not embarrassed of this fact, in fact I’m proud of it. But this doesn’t negate the idea that I like having money in the bank. I hate looking at money as a security blanket. Blankets develop holes over time, so I have to learn to stay unattached.
But, like I said, my roots are deep.
I couldn’t fathom spending good money on a vase, especially when we have a few at home.
Yes, JD countered, there are a lot of vases here, but none as nice as this. He held the amber-colored vase, complete with beveled lines, out in front us once he caught up to me. I had already seen the vase. I liked the vase. But we didn’t need it. At this point in my life, need outweighs want. Could we afford the vase? Yes. But did we need it? That was the point of contention.
Waiting to purchase our goods, I walked out of line and looked at other items while JD talked with the sales associate. He grabbed our bags and headed to the car. As we loaded the bags into the backseat, I glanced at the receipt. Hmmm, the total seemed higher than I anticipated. Funny.
Upon further inspection, I saw it. The amber-colored vase. He bought it.
I thought I made my point clear. But, nooooo, now we have a new vase. I don’t get it, I told JD. Were you really that attached to it, I asked. He shrugged and said, I guess.
We made our way home and he opened the front door for me, the way he always does, and I turned on the light. Oh god…please no. I’m so mean. I’m a horrible, horrible wife.
On our dining room table was a dozen white long-stem roses. Without a vase.
JD silently placed the delicate flowers in the vase, filled it with water, and handed it to me. Happy sixth-month anniversary, he said.
I laughed. I laugh when I don’t know what to do. I was so embarrassed, and I felt terribly.
He hugged me and kissed my forehead. I hope you like the vase, he whispered.
I stopped in my tracks, turned to face him, and tried to reason. Yes, I said, it’s lovely, but must we spend that much on a vase? Surely in this big store lies another vase that’s not as expensive.
I faced forward and began walking. I hate feeling like the frugal one in this duo. I know I have issues with spending money on certain things—like vases for instance, or name brand raisins for that matter—but the roots of my financial paranoia go deep. Like Yosemite Redwood deep.
I grew up poor. I am not embarrassed of this fact, in fact I’m proud of it. But this doesn’t negate the idea that I like having money in the bank. I hate looking at money as a security blanket. Blankets develop holes over time, so I have to learn to stay unattached.
But, like I said, my roots are deep.
I couldn’t fathom spending good money on a vase, especially when we have a few at home.
Yes, JD countered, there are a lot of vases here, but none as nice as this. He held the amber-colored vase, complete with beveled lines, out in front us once he caught up to me. I had already seen the vase. I liked the vase. But we didn’t need it. At this point in my life, need outweighs want. Could we afford the vase? Yes. But did we need it? That was the point of contention.
Waiting to purchase our goods, I walked out of line and looked at other items while JD talked with the sales associate. He grabbed our bags and headed to the car. As we loaded the bags into the backseat, I glanced at the receipt. Hmmm, the total seemed higher than I anticipated. Funny.
Upon further inspection, I saw it. The amber-colored vase. He bought it.
I thought I made my point clear. But, nooooo, now we have a new vase. I don’t get it, I told JD. Were you really that attached to it, I asked. He shrugged and said, I guess.
We made our way home and he opened the front door for me, the way he always does, and I turned on the light. Oh god…please no. I’m so mean. I’m a horrible, horrible wife.
On our dining room table was a dozen white long-stem roses. Without a vase.
JD silently placed the delicate flowers in the vase, filled it with water, and handed it to me. Happy sixth-month anniversary, he said.
I laughed. I laugh when I don’t know what to do. I was so embarrassed, and I felt terribly.
He hugged me and kissed my forehead. I hope you like the vase, he whispered.
posted by Jasmine at 1:30 PM
7 Comments:
VISA expiration 10/08.
Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. McCarty!
He's only being honest Jazzy Darling, your writing is simply amazing! As far as you and JD go, I cant imagine two people more perfect for eachother...Your relationship is so beautiful to watch (and to read about) :)
You're amazing.
Are you a writer in your other life?
I think we're soulmates :) (You're just a much prettier version!)
amber
JD - you need to start a blog for single guys on how to romance the ladies! You're big time dude! This is seriously helping me!
Awwwwwwwww.... so cute!!
ps... it's officialy SATURDAY chef Jazzymin... and that was NoT an April fools demand... i already did my april fools :)
Muah! Happy Anniversary you two!!! Gosh time flies!
Wow, that made me want to cry! What a sweet husband you have, cherish him and don't ever forget these moments!
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