Three years ago, I had mentally decided I wanted a divorce. I hadn't told anyone. I felt disconnected and convinced myself our marriage was over. One evening I came home planning to start the conversation.
She was sitting on the floor repairing the broken strap of my old bag because she knew I liked it and didn't want me to throw it away. It was such a small, ordinary act. I suddenly realized how many quiet forms of love I had stopped noticing. We still had problems and eventually went to counseling, but I never told her that a cheap broken bag changed the direction of our marriage.