“Sure,” I say, “because I love you and it’s my nature to take care of my man,” I think to myself. It’s what we do to the people we love. We make them sandwiches. And mainly because when my car sounds funny and is idling rough at the stoplight, you go in there and put oil in it. Tomorrow I will feel better when I’m driving because I know you fixed the problem.
As I’m spreading the ham on there strategically so it evens out the taste perfectly for you, I think about that spider in the bathtub that you chased around like a little boy chasing a frog around the backyard. I was amazed at your completely asinine way of trying catch a spider, as if he challenged you to a duel and he had the upper-hand on you. But goddamnit, you got it! And now I can take a bath.
I’ll be happy to make you a sandwich. Do you want pickles with it? Well, I mean I want your sandwich to be the best one yet. So do you want pickles or better yet, I’ll put a big slab of that potato salad I made for you. Why? Because when I heard a noise in the house last night, I elbowed you in bed and woke you out of a sound sleep. And then, like the warrior you are, tip-toed downstairs in your silly pajama bottoms and one of your prized matching golf club. When you came back and said it was just the cat that fell off the back of the sofa, you were irritated but went right back to sleep with no complaints.
I would absolutely LOVE to make you a sandwich because I know you don’t think of things like cutting it in half, or putting the mayonnaise on both pieces of bread. And I can’t have you eating a sloppy sandwich that you are only half satisfied with. Why? Because when I was out in the yard the other day trying to dig a hole for my bulbs, I hurt my wrist on some really hard ground. And when I came in to put some ice on it, you got angry and stomped out of the house, took my little gardening shovel and created all five of the holes I was wanting.
I want so much to make you a sandwich with a bit of chipotle mayonnaise that you love so much because you never see that we have any, and you usually make your sandwiches with just the cheap stuff. And that’s what I do. I’m a woman, and every time I make sandwiches for you I think of the extras. And as I’m lovingly making your sandwich I’m remembering last night’s movie. You know the movie we watched before going to bed? That horrible Fried Green Tomatoes movie you so hate and get bored with oh so quickly. But since we watched your Adam Sandler DVD the night before, you were kind enough to sit through two hours of this suicide for you. And you even faked a quick giggle during the grocery store parking lot scene. And that was worth the whole movie right there because you were tolerating me and my favorite movie for two hours of your life, despite the fact that you had to get up early for an early meeting at work tomorrow.
These are the reasons you could ask me to make you a sandwich while I’m in the middle of giving birth and I’d do it. All of these things make it worth my time and effort to go through the entire thought process of making that sandwich the best I ever made. I even toasted the bread slightly and your eyes widen in childish excitement. And when I see you bite into that sandwich I think of you scraping your knuckles on an engine thingy because you were putting oil in my car. I hear your back cracking from bending down over my tiny little garden making holes I wanted. I think of you topless, with a golf club, sneaking around the house to put your life in danger in your silly pajama bottoms so I would be all right. I think of you trying so hard to stay awake during the heartbreaking scene of Fried Green Tomatoes, when I know you’d rather be anywhere else than there.
Yes, I will go make you a sandwich because you do these things. Plus, you asked me nicely. And if you didn’t do any of these things that I cherish the most about you – you can go make it your damned self.
- Fun After School Snacks (socialmediamom.com)
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