Dear Darling {8}
Dear Darling,
Most of yesterday was spent in bed as I’m a bit under the weather, you see. If you were here I would make you scratch my back all day. I know some people don’t like to be touched when they’re sick, but I like to be, need to be, curled up beside someone with their hand gently resting on me, softly stroking my hair. Touch makes everything right in my world, you know.
But that’s not the point of this letter (although that’s very valuable information that you might just want to tuck away for later). No, the point of this letter is to tell you that, because I was too sick to read, or paint, or even watch a movie, I spent the day in bed drifting in and out of consciousness as I listened to my new Valentine’s Day playlist. And inevitably, I dreamed of you.
I dreamed of our courtship and how lovely it was that you actually courted me in this day in age when such a practice has all but been forgotten. I dreamed of holding hands on evening walks, and dates to get a 25-cent ice-cream cone on late summer afternoons. I dreamed of picnics and flip-flops and lazy afternoons by the lake. I dreamed of end-of-the-night kisses on the front porch. Of holding onto you so tightly when it was time for you to go home–I hate it so when you have to leave. And I dreamed of that day when we’ll promise forever. There was laughter and family and friends all around, lights and garlands strung from the stars. If nothing else, I do know how to throw a party, and we two were wrapped up in total bliss, dancing (of course) the night away as we began our happily ever after.
And babe, I’ve just got to say: You have got some moves.
xo,
me
(your-totally-hot-for-you-future-wife)
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