A few mornings ago, I found this note propped on a chair between a stack of books and my old black purse. It stood tall next to our kitchen island. Mi Amor had written the note while I was away, taking the kids to school. I read it--surprised, enthralled. The note's electric blue letters pulsed like a neon open sign, each word charged with love, inviting me in to believe it, to buy it: You're the best.
The house was still except for the thump-thumping the dryer made, turning its full load of wet, heavy towels. Loosening the note from between the books, and tipping it against my belly, I read it again. How did he know a trip to the temple was just what I needed?
I left the note propped on the kitchen counter, and I read it at least a million times throughout the day. When my homies came home from school, they read the note too. One of them kept repeating its words over and over: once while eating Doritos, again while putting his dinner plate into the dishwasher, and once more during his bath. My eyes went misty every time I heard him say to himself, "You're the best!"
That night before bed, I told mi Amor,
"Do you hear what you're teaching your dear, sweet son?"
"What?" He said confused.
"Haven't you heard him reading that note you left? Do you know what you're doing?
"No," he said nervously.
"You're teaching him to love his future wife. You're teaching him to love me, or better yet, love himself. You're making this home a heaven on earth, and I can't thank you enough."
"Hmm," he said, not really grasping the long-term consequences of his simple little note.
P.S. As you can see, someone tried to wipe away my little note. In effort to preserve this moment in time, I took a picture--it lasts longer. Heaven knows I'll need to be reminded: You're the best. Don't doubt it. We all need to hear that once in a while--maybe once every minute somedays.
You're the BEST. Don't doubt it!