A Love Letter Unsent III
A Love Letter Unsent III
Dear Baby,It’s been seven years since that day at McDonald’s. Seven years. Fundamentally I haven’t changed. A line or two may have formed between my eyebrows and my chin has been growing almost to its double year by year, but I love every subtle anatomic modification because each was earned at some expense.
So much of what you are is making me what I am. Better, as your half, more confident, as a man. Your love has given me a worth I’m unaccustomed to. You loving me as me, not what should I or could be makes all the difference.
In writing to brag about the transformed me, I always speak of us. Please remember, do not forget, We are Us. Our solo selves have all but gone. If my universe turns faster, hurriedly hops along – you are the gears inside me. You make every motion with me as we go. I do not find this rearrangement of our lives astonishing. Ever since that Saturday I saw love look back at me from you, I found security ancient lovers could not give. Then is when I knew it would be you for always.
Your mind and body, both naked to me, overwhelm me. Sink down into the pillows with me and don’t rise up again until we’ve loved so long that we remain weak unable to rise. There. Your head face down against my belly is the perfect starting place.
Good night, my love, even before it becomes night. You will sleep warm and well because you are next to me and we are taking care of one another.
Baby
THE OTHER LETTERS
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