Romancing the Stone --Age by Wilma aka Reese Mobley

Our topic this month is about romance and I’m betting that everyone who posts or comments has a different idea about what romance means to them.   It’s a personal feeling that falls along the same lines of beauty is in the eye of the beholder.   We recognize it when we read about it or see it on the movie screen but to define it in our own lives, well, that’s not as easy. 
To me, romance is all the little things that add up to one big thing.  The importance of the little things changes as we age and our relationships mature.  Before I got married the little things included getting a giant teddy bear in my car from a secret admirer or a token of affection from the boyfriend of the month.  Now, if a stranger left a stuffed creature in my car, I’d probably freak out.  Scratch that.  I’d be scared to death.         
My husband isn’t a particularly romantic guy.  He’s more stone age than Romancing the Stone.  Fred over the swoon-worthy Jesse.  That’s not to say he doesn’t have his moments, because he does.  Romance to us is being able to laugh at the little mishaps in life—rolling with the punches instead of obsessing over them.  He lets me hug our grandson first when he gets off the plane from Florida even though he wants to.  Sharing popcorn and watching TV together.  Saving his change for me so I can buy a pop from the machine at work.  Bringing me the good ice because I like it better.
Little things.
And for the record, my hubby of 31 years looks about as much like Fred Flintstone as I do Wilma.