Growing up in the south, the simple word “sugar” had so many meanings. It was that syrupy layer on the bottom of a jug of sweet tea, and it was the pet name all your aunties called you, and well, everyone else, even the Pastor.
“Sugar” was the kisses your sweetheart gave when no one was looking, and what he whispered in your ear to tell you how much he loved you.
Since both my husband and I are originally from the south (you can’t really count Florida as south, it’s sort of a whole region all its own), we know all about sugar. Being OLD married people, our version of sugar has changed over the years.
Our sweet talk has matured. It’s no longer merely gratuitous compliments, it’s deeper than that, it’s an appreciation for the little things that otherwise get lost in our daily routine.
I let my sweetheart know how much I love him, by telling him, ‘thank you,” for the incidental things he does for me, things that I may have taken for granted when we were first married.
During a recent, and rare, day out running errand together, the Mister had the occasion to use the sprayer on the car windshield wipers, which reminded me that the washer reservoir had been empty. Noticing it no longer was, I thanked him for refilling it for me.
He in turn remarked on how often he has to do that, noting that I use an inordinate amount of washer fluid, more than any normal person should.
“You use wiper fluid to get tailgaters to back off, don’t you?” He really is quite brilliant. “I knew that was why you go through a shit ton of washer fluid.”
“I’m not gesturing, or swearing or driving erratically,” hoping to defend myself. “Why have it if you’re not going to use it? It’s not like it costs a lot.”
So, it’s come down to this. When my sweetheart wants to tell me how much he loves me, he makes sure I have enough blue soap suds to repel asshat drivers, and I show him how much I love him by refraining from running said asshat drivers off the road.