Horse Cookies

We're strolling through Costco happily. C. is doing the skateboard-esque "push push push -riiiiiide" thing with the cart; still flying high off of his newly regained status of "uber husbandly provider" by procuring for me a huge bulk box of macaroni and cheese. I'm glowing as I walk behind the surfing sailor and feeling loved because he thought of me and my cheesy needs. Oh, the ways he loves me, it makes my knees weak.

He's surfing through rows filled with tubs of cookies and candy and suddenly he stops up short. Really short, he's looking up at a high shelf and pointing at a tub of round brown things. His 5'5'' frame is dwarfed by the 6'+ storage device.

"What's that?!"

I look up, I'm not wearing heels today so the mystery box is an additional inch away from me. However, I'm scrappy and do not mind looking ridiculous in the middle of Costco so I climb up the shelf and grab a box.

"Aussie Bites - rolled oats, honey, coconut, peanut butter, sesame seeds....hey! It's horsey food!" I exclaim.

"Yes it is," my husband agrees "horses would love that stuff."

"Yum, yum, yum" I sing.

"What would horses say when they gobble it up?" my husband asks.

I blush and grin wide...I know what he wants me to do...and I want to do it.

"They'd go yummy, yummy, yummy, give me more horse cookies." I say coyly.

"Then what?" my husband is grinning at me slyly.

"They go ppppffffffffffff." I say, blowing my lips out in a horse-like snort, shaking my head and stomping my foot.

My husband horse-snorts back at me. We're both glowing and smiling at one another. It's a very intimate moment.

"Want some horse food?" I ask? He does, we get a box. He starts on his cart-surfing again and I find some hand soap. Every once in awhile I'll blow my lips again and snort. C.'s grin grows wider and wider. He knows how happy I am. I know how happy he is. We may look like a sophisticated yuppie-type couple shopping for groceries...but really we're two little kids in a playground.

We pass by another yuppie-type couple pushing a little kid in their cart. The kid is going "bomp, bomp, bomp!" over and over, making his lips pop each time. His parents look weary, he looks ecstatic.

"He's got a good sound too." I say to my husband.

"Yes he does. Ppppffffff!"

"Pppppffffff" I respond.

As we leave the warehouse I slip my hand into his and he squeezes it. I'm not sure what he's thinking, but I'm thinking about how four years ago I couldn't make any kind of horse sound. He would talk about his horses and I was at a loss for sounds. Too uptight, too depressed, too shy, unable to let myself go and say what I wanted, be who I wanted to be rather than what others told me. I was all locked up until C. came along and said "I like you, even when you're being goofy, you're perfect." He let me be silly, and imperfect. He let me express my own opinion and tell my own stories. He was so good to me. He was so good for me. Wrapped up in his arms, I let inner self out and snorted and whinnied in joy.

"I've never been able to do that before!"

"Really? Cause you're cute when you do."

"Then I'll do it just for you. Ppppppfffffffff"

And I do. And it reminds me of that glow we had when we first fell in love. How free we felt, how light and hopeful. Two people going back to the beginning, back to childhood, and growing up together all over again.

Mmm, horse cookies are good. Ppppppfffffffff.