I envisioned our tenth year anniversary as a scene from a romantic movie, with sweet music playing in the background and a lot of laughter. My husband and I holding hands and celebrating all our achievements together. It was indeed a big deal when you think about it; ten years of ups and downs, love, fights, forgiving each other and then enjoying those little, ordinary days that eventually became our lives.
A few weeks prior to the celebration, I took some extra shifts at work in order to be able to get the perfect gift, a watch I knew he’d loved — elegant but understated.
I could still feel the happiness of the moment when I bought it, and that night after dinner, I finally gave him with the watch. My heart was filled with joy when he smiled while looking at it. Then he took a small bag that was sitting by his chair and handed it to me. It was a plastic bottle of perfume, the type that is usually found at the very end of the supermarket counter.
For a brief moment, I failed to hide the spark of disappointment. I told myself not to mind, that gifts were not what counted, but at the same time, I was sad because I expected more from him. It wasn’t the fragrance that was the issue, but rather his lack of effort.
Anyway, I smiled, said thank you, and gave him a kiss.
