Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Love Letter #3

p writing poetry to J listening to Common when I'm really supposed to be packing for a move that is happening tomorrow.

"You're such a mush ball," I can here him say.

I smile as if I know a secret only he and I know. Because we do... This love we share isn't about occupation or wealth... its about mutual ambitions and ties to our families, our desire for unconditional love and the type of relationship we both wanted. I see something in him most people don't get to see. The way he does 8th grade Algebra homework while I make dinner and show my daughter martial arts moves. The way he gives my son game with the girls while going over Spanish homework with him. I love that despite that he hasn't found his lane yet, he'll sit and obsess over cable network news and has meaningful conversation with me about what's happening around the world in 30 days. I love that when he sees that I'm a bit more intense in the kitchen chopping vegetables with malice he'll.. slip up behind me and gently kiss my neck to make me smile.. because he knows, that the spot exactly 3 o'clock on my neckline is ticklish and that I can't possibly frown when his lips touch there.

I love that he adores my cooking so much that every night he kisses me and says thank you when I bring him a plate, and has finished it before I have a chance to bring him a glass of water. I watch as he turns off the TV and picks up a book to read... always looking to expand his mind at his leisure. I can't begin to imagine what my days are going to be like while he's not here with me. Trying to fill my days with other things so I won't dwell on it too much and break down in tears. Which isn't a difficult task looking around a partially unpacked room that still needs to be put away so I can have friends move us tomorrow. There I go... Us. That's all its been for the last 2 years. I pray, yes, I pray... that the universe sees fit that he heals as quickly as possible so I can stop sleeping on the sofa and return to our bed so I might be a happier woman.

St. Michael if you're listening, watch over my soldier and keep him safe. Let his body rest and his heart return to its normal gait so he might remember, that the world, although a scary place... isn't as bad as it seems. May he remember that no cross is too big to bear... and that his shoulders are strong enough to lift the weight from his head. May he find the peace he seeks so that he will once again see that he IS the man I met and fell in love with.. that he hasn't lost his way. May he remember that hope is everlasting and there is nothing wrong with joy in your heart. May he remember that the biggest expectations he has are the ones he sets for himself... and that mistakes are easily overcome. I know love can't heal all wounds... but if it could, I'll easily give up the memory of true love to restore his faith in humanity.

Until we meet again,

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