Jif

So, the first argument Spence and I had as a married couple was over peanut butter. I had just finished my grocery shopping, and had arrived at our 250 square-foot "honeymoon shack" as our landlord lovingly put it, complete with leaking septic tank and moldy closet, when my darling new husband saw the jar of Jif peeping out of the grocery bag.

"Heather, what's this?"

"Peanut butter. Oh, I'm sorry would you have rather had crunchy?"

"Well yes, but that's not the point. You know we don't always need to have the nicest things."

"What are you talking about? Of course I know that. Are you saying that I'm spoiled?"

We were very poor college students, and Spence was concerned that I had bought name-brand peanut butter--thus setting a precedent for our marriage that we couldn't afford. And when I indignantly proclaimed (through tears, I'm sure) that Jif was on sale and was actually the cheapest peanut butter in the store, he felt chagrinned, and I never did let him live it down.

The sting of that silly argument was the first of many as we worked to figure out this partnership we'd formed. Together we could conquer the world, but Spence had better not play basketball once a week without checking with me first. We wanted only to soar like kites with nothing but the wind beneath us, but kept getting tangled in each other's strings.

It has been thirteen years now, and I still do the grocery shopping. Spence still helps me put things away, but I can't remember the last time he questioned what I bought at Safeway. We have grown together and changed immensely, and he has become my anchor. The tangles are much fewer and far between as I have come to know that he holds both my heart and my kite string close to him, and simply cheers me on while I soar.

But let's be honest, he had still better check with me before he plays basketball. ;-)