Moved by little things

Yesterday I read a status on a youth forum: What was the first gift you received from your lover? My lover is now my husband. Every time I think back to the first gift he gave me, I feel both funny and warm.

When people are courting, they often give each other cosmetics, jewelry, clothes, etc., but my husband - the first gift he gave was 5 corn cobs! 5 corn cobs boiled, steaming hot, fragrant, given at 9pm, just because when I texted him earlier, I accidentally complained that I suddenly felt hungry. Only later did I find out that he had to run all over the streets to find a corn shop late at night, then begged them to stay and boil another batch after they had hurriedly set up shop. I never told him that his funny, honest corn cobs had made me more confident in my decision to choose him as my husband.

My girlfriends and sisters often confide in me about love, casually mentioning a few criteria for choosing a life partner. A girl choosing a man to accompany and rely on for life, in addition to feelings, also considers many criteria: education, finances, job, family background... There is nothing wrong with that. After all, buying a shirt or pants requires going from store to store to choose, try on, look at it, hang it up and put it down, let alone choosing... a husband!

But nowadays, it seems that women are more realistic than before. Many of the women I know “score” their boyfriends through expensive gifts: designer bags, high-end phones, diamond jewelry, fashionable clothes, imported roses, romantic candlelit dinners at Western restaurants… Those beautiful things are indeed liked by everyone, but is that a measure of the sincerity of our lover? Are they “plus points” to consider the possibility of a long-term relationship?

I think, true love is not based on big, grand things; on the contrary, love is multiplied and silently sustained by countless small things, so small that many times we ignore it, do not pay attention to it, consider it obvious. Love is when you wash the dishes, I pick vegetables. Love is a bowl of porridge, a pill when you are sick, tired. Love is tolerating each other when we are sad, grumpy, irritable, ugly. Love is respect, sharing, forgiveness, taking on responsibility, helping.

When living in simplicity, we often forget its value, constantly wishing to look up and compare it with the glittering ostentation of other people's lives; only when it is gone, do we suddenly regretfully realize that in order to have the simplicity for us, that person had to suppress within himself how much hardship, toil, sacrifice, and effort. In the end, the fireworks only light up for a moment and then go out, leaving only a small, simple, warm pot of embers beside us, but helping us through the cold night.