So when I got married, the first morning that we had eggs, I sat down, slid my plate over to Gary and ask if he would cut my eggs up for me. He looked at me, a little surprised, and said "No. Why would I do that?" and I said, "my daddy always cuts my eggs up for me", and he said "I'm not your daddy"......................UH-OH! That was our first "tiff" (slang for verbal argument).
34 years later, as I sat in the recliner without the strength to prepare my own breakfast, my wonderful husband walked in with a plate of soft cooked eggs, cut up to perfection. He sat down beside me and offered me a bite, which I took and was able to eat a few bites. In that moment, a flood of memories came over me and we sat in the quiet of the morning and laughed and then cried about our first "tiff".
In that tender moment, it wasn't about cutting my egg up anymore.
I LOVE THIS MAN!