Bonjour mon ami,
For the 4th of July weekend Sig Other and I took a trip up to Napa with our close couple friends B&H, the second trip we’ve made with the couple because they are the BEST people to travel with. It’s like having our own tour guides/concierge/DJs and if you’ve ever taken a trip for any extended period up the 5 North you know that great traveling companions are a must. It was during one of the inevitable moments that happens on a road trip where everyone is talked out, the radio gets a little louder and the barren landscape starts to lull one into a state of reflection that Sig Other started one of those conversations that alters the way that I see how he sees me.
I was watching the landscape of dry grass, not so happy looking cows and more dry grass fly by as I sat in the front passenger seat when Sig Other asked as he drove, “What’s your favorite flower?” Now this question was particularly interesting because I struggle with labeling anything my “favorite”. I feel that there is a great deal of expectation in the answer and how it reflects on you as a person, particularly to the person that is asking. What if your favorite is something they completely hate and now you feel obligated to justify your choice or they share the same, are you now instantly bonded by this connection even if you detest everything else about the person? Is your favorite hip enough or cool enough and what if you change your mind, only to be labeled with this “favorite” thing indefinitely? Of course I have a tendency to over think things, like to the nth degree, so this spiralling internal dialogue of neurosis is probably something unique to me…but I digress.
What I really struggle with is I am constantly changing and evolving as a person that I find it difficult to think of something as my favorite constantly when my desires and taste can shift so dramatically from the present to the future. But this is Sig Other and I decide to play along and say, “The sunflower,” because in that moment it was the flower that spoke to me the most (yes that is new agey but what can I say, I’m from California). To which Sig Other replied, “That’s what I thought.”
Well of course I’m now immensely curious because where as I pulled that answer from a place housed in my present reflection, a reflection that could be altered a year from the date I was asked the question, Sig Other sounded so sure in his assessment of what a “favorite” thing of mine may be. I asked him, “What made you think that?” Now this question could be answered in a variety of ways by my illustrious better half, falling into two major categories. He could be romantic in his response causing me to smile and think how lucky I am to have him or he could be romantically clumsy in his response causing me to roll my eyes and think how lucky I am to have him.
What he said was, “I knew you would pick the sunflower because it’s strong like you. A rose or flower like that seems too delicate, not sturdy enough.” Looking over I could see his brow crinkling in concentration as he sought the words to express himself, as he stared out onto the open road. It was romantic and to a woman that doesn’t have such a abiding confidence in her self worth as myself the “sturdy” aspect may have been a tad bit unromantic, but for me it was honest and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Smiling I reached over and squeezed his hand resting on the center console of the car and thought maybe the sunflower would be my favorite flower a little longer than I expected.