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I read an article that outlined the importance of understanding your love language and how this will truly help any relationship that you are in. For the longest time I was convinced that Touch and Gifts were my top two love languages. I believe it was because I was a lonely teacher when I first took the assessment, craving touch and someone to shower me with gifts as I paid off my student loans and paid for a mortgage. It's all so clear to me now...
So, as I was *working* the other day, I retook the assessment. I am a sucker for any form of "who are you" silly quiz that floats around the Interweb. I know what colour, bug, animal, and drink I am, which city I am meant to live in and if I should really retire to the beach, yes, yes I should retire to the beach -- tomorrow. Thank you, buzzfeed, how would we know what to do without you?
Anyway, as the assessment is clicking along I start thinking, I enjoy getting flowers every month from my husband for our monthaversary but it is the cards that I get a real kick out of... and keep. He doesn't stick to the usual, For Someone Special cards that come from the floral shop, sometimes it's a retirement card that says something quirky about leaving behind the past months of our relationship, he's quite creative.
Then I started thinking about how when I was little I would leave cards lying around for my dad. My sister found a card I had sent to her, it had this in it:
Hey word bird,
Whose taking that tird,
Please don't tird on me.
I mean, genius really, who wouldn't see the burgeoning author in that poetry? Yes, I used the wrong whose in the poem, but it's still pretty high level. I attempted to draw a bird beside it too, it looked more like a duck with stick legs with a pointy thing stuck to its beak.
I wrote all of my sisters letters when they were away at university. I'm sure they have more of my poetic gold buried somewhere deep in a memorabilia box somewhere. I should cash in on that - make my millions.
I wrote both of my Grandmothers. I couldn't always keep them straight, but then one kept replying to me. So we wrote back and forth, even though, often times I couldn't read exactly what she had written. Something about that generation and their font-like script was a challenge for my 8-year old eyes.
I wrote my cousins.
I had a pen-pal.
I was also part of a club where random people would send you postcards.
I loved mail and writing.
See the trend?
Yeah, me either.
At the end of the Love Languages assessment I was not shocked to see that Words of Affirmation eked out Touch and Gifts. Though those were close behind. And, some things never change, Acts of Service was dead last. Don't do anything for me, I got it covered.
So, why this post? Words are my love language (also, I'd just like you to know that I have yet to spell language correctly while writing this post, thank God for autocorrect) so this post is for my husband, whose love language (right whose, still struggled with language) is Acts of Service. Happy 51 months, I will make a delicious supper just for you, and this "full of public service" blog post just for you. Just be thankful it wasn't a poem about a bird tirding on you. 🐥💩