I have a confession to make.
With a new title, WAY more responsibilities and a shrinking home budget I have started bringing my lunch to work. Lunch consist of leftovers from dinner the night before some random side and a diet coke. Fuel to get through the day and easy enough to be eaten at my desk with one hand while I type of click my mouse with the other.
Every morning I schlep to work carrying my oversized purse (why do I think I need all this stuff), a lunch bag, a jacket of some sort, and a change of clothes (yea-I like to pretend I’ll be walking after work). Like some Himalayan pack mule I trod thru parking lots and sidewalks, down hallways and to my office door. Where I have to drop all my gear to start the adventurous search for the key. Find it. Unlock the outer door. Load back up and take the 5 steps to my actual office. In a well-choreographed move I toss bags into appropriate corners and chairs. The lunch box always ends up on my desk. Here comes the confession part.
My sweet hubby writes me a love note most days and slips it into my lunchbox. I pretend I don’t know he does he and he tries hard not to forget. The notes are just quick, sweet scribbles. This is the best part about bringing my lunch. I grab the bag on the way out the door and fling it into the front seat knowing that I have a little note inside. It’s tantalizing to know that there is something just for me contained in my lunch bag amidst pesto chicken shells and light and fit red-velvet yogurt. Here is the confession: I never make it to lunch. I barely make it into the office before I am digging around the bag searching for the scrap of paper that bares the signature ❤ P. These little notes, a simple sentence written hastily on whatever scrap of paper is left on the counter- make my day. I read the simple sentence or phrase, fold it up and tuck it back into the lunch bag like a child re-taping a Christmas present after sneaking an early peak. I usually read it again as my lunch warms in the microwave. Sometimes the note makes me smile. Sometimes I grin. (There is a difference between a grin and a smile.) A few make me roll my eyes. Most leave me hungry for more (love notes, not the lunch) and all of them make my heart dance a bit.
In our days of: too much work in too little hours, transporting of kids, household chores and prime-time TV; softball games and swim practice, dirty socks and glasses left on the coffee table-my hubby and I don’t often take the time to say, “Hi! Remember me? I love something about you.” My little lunch notes are those moments. They are small little pick-me ups in crazy and hectic days. Every morning for a second I get to fall in love all over again. That’s a pretty great way to start a day.