Letter to my Husband

Dear husband,

You mentioned (on several occasions now) that I never write to you. I don't. That is absolutely true. I brush you off, citing the many (I think, valid) reasons why I don't write you letters.

1. You are sitting next to me on the couch. It seems horribly inefficient to write out the sentences I could quickly whisper in your ear. Shall I pen you a sonnet and send it your way via carrier  pigeon? Come on honey, the sink is full of dirty dishes and our daughter just pooped her pants. Which leads me to....

2. We have jobs, small children, Labradors, a cat with a gross skin disorder. Sometimes I just want grab handfuls of my hair and scream, "THERE'S NO TIME!!! THERE'S NEVER ANY FREAKIN' TIME!!!" But I don't. There's no time for such dramatic displays.

3. We met in 2000. Our relationship is 16-years-old. Our marriage is 10-years-old. Love letters are for new relationships. All shiny and sweaty and unfamiliar. Right? 

But I read this list over and I know that they're excuses. They're true, but excuses nonetheless. Marriage is this complicated journey with complicated emotions. This dance of give and take, push and pull. It's easy for me to sit down and write about my love for our children. It is not that complicated. They take. I give. That's the relationship. With you? It's constant revisions and compromises -- two captains working to keep the boat afloat. That letter is not simple.

Here's the thing though. We've come so far and maybe that does deserve a love letter. Some confirmation with the written word. There was a time when I really believed our boat would sink. It was so, so hard and I think we're both still healing. But we stayed on that sinking boat and bailed out the water with our bare hands. (Sorry babe, I'm really into this boat analogy.) 

I am so proud of us, and especially you. You weathered a lot of storms (Argh matey. I can't stop!) but you didn't give up. You work so hard to make me happy and sometimes I don't even deserve it. I come home to clean dishes, mopped floors, and empty garbage cans. You bring me mugs of ice cream while I watch trashy television. You tell me I'm beautiful. All the time. I'm so blessed and I need to remember that.

A week or two ago I was rocking our daughter while we all watched a movie. I was singing a little song in her ear when I felt your eyes on me. I looked up and saw the most amazing look on your face. A look I wish I could bottle up and keep for the hard days.

A night or two ago I was in your arms and felt completely safe and content. There was nowhere else I wanted or needed to be. A feeling I wish I could bottle up and keep for the hard days.

I know that if we keep creating and bottling these amazing memories, we will always be okay. The boat will (mostly) sail straight and strong and true. (I had to bring it back to the boat.)

I love you.