Day 168

I learned something about John not long after we had been dating.  It was big.  A huge difference between us.  John came home to Summerfield with me one weekend my freshman year, his junior year, of college.  We probably went Friday after we were both done with classes, so this was probably sometime Saturday afternoon.  I don't remember the specifics of it, but it probably went something like this: John and I were sitting on the couch in the living room and were alone for a minute and he whispered to me, "You guys don't snack."  Being caught off guard, I looked at him and gave him that "what do you mean" look.  Getting him into the kitchen, I told my mom what he had said.  "What do you mean?  There's apples, clementines, cheese and crackers, and veggies.  There's plenty to snack on."  

But that's not what John meant.  John was looking for some starch.  Oh how this boy loves his starch.  He meant pretzels, chips, something made with flour.  

That was something no one in my family was used to.  We grabbed apples.  So it was always sweet and a little funny that whenever John and I would come home, my mom would go to the grocery store and buy pretzels and cinnamon raisin bread.  That's all John needs to be completely happy.

So this Christmas, John's little (and by little I mean younger; Mark plays football for UNH and he is by no means little) brother bought him the perfect Christmas present: an OXO container for pretzels.  I make sure this is never empty.  However, it had reached that dreaded emptiness a few days ago.  "What am I supposed to snack on," John said.  I responded with, "there's some clementines and vegetables."  But today, seeing as I love this guy, I went to the store, came home, and sent John this picture.

John came home, gave me a hug, and said, "Thanks for the pretzels."  He makes me smile.