One year ago today I got married
Dear Sweet Jesse-Husband,
Have you noticed how I always call you sweet Jesse? That's because sweet is always the word I think of when I think of you. You are always, always, always sweet to me, all the time, up or down, high or low. That's the first word I think of, but I think sometimes I say it instead of other words: kind, thoughtful, respectful, generous, caring, gentle, brilliant, hilarious, wonderful. When I am down, you help me get up. You help me think about things: why I want to do the things I want to do (and when I don't know why you help me think of good reasons), why I'm really feeling the way I'm feeling, why I think the things I do--rather than letting me run about blindly spouting my opinions about things.
You are the best man that I ever could have married (subjunctive! yeah!) I knew that from the first time we dated....which is almost certainly why I broke up with you that time, and what, two more times? Something like that. You were wonderful, and I could see what a good husband and father and best friend you'd be, and it scared me silly--I was 19 for goodness sake! And so I broke your heart a few times, until we decided to stop talking entirely to settle the matter. And my dear, sweet, wonderful mother listened to me that whole month that we didn't talk, as I told her how I always wanted to tell you things and how I always wanted to hang out with you and how you had become my best friend and how miserable and lonely I was--and she said "well just call him!" I was too chicken for that, but I came over one night and we talked--and it was like breathing again after holding my breath for too long. We talked for hours and then made nachos and did the dishes together and we splashed each other some and it was all down hill from there. Actually, it was all down hill from the time I saw you in the stairwell of your apartment building with your green jacket and rosy rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes with the crinkles around the edges when you smiled. I was a goner, right there.
And yet, none of that love that I felt for you then compares to how we've grown together this last year. It's been stressful, sure, but you are patient and have faith that God will take care of us, and it helps me have faith too. Thanks, Jesse. Thanks for being silly with me and happy with me and sad with me and hopeful with me and joyful with me. You are my best friend. I love you.
Love,
your Catherine-wife
Have you noticed how I always call you sweet Jesse? That's because sweet is always the word I think of when I think of you. You are always, always, always sweet to me, all the time, up or down, high or low. That's the first word I think of, but I think sometimes I say it instead of other words: kind, thoughtful, respectful, generous, caring, gentle, brilliant, hilarious, wonderful. When I am down, you help me get up. You help me think about things: why I want to do the things I want to do (and when I don't know why you help me think of good reasons), why I'm really feeling the way I'm feeling, why I think the things I do--rather than letting me run about blindly spouting my opinions about things.
You are the best man that I ever could have married (subjunctive! yeah!) I knew that from the first time we dated....which is almost certainly why I broke up with you that time, and what, two more times? Something like that. You were wonderful, and I could see what a good husband and father and best friend you'd be, and it scared me silly--I was 19 for goodness sake! And so I broke your heart a few times, until we decided to stop talking entirely to settle the matter. And my dear, sweet, wonderful mother listened to me that whole month that we didn't talk, as I told her how I always wanted to tell you things and how I always wanted to hang out with you and how you had become my best friend and how miserable and lonely I was--and she said "well just call him!" I was too chicken for that, but I came over one night and we talked--and it was like breathing again after holding my breath for too long. We talked for hours and then made nachos and did the dishes together and we splashed each other some and it was all down hill from there. Actually, it was all down hill from the time I saw you in the stairwell of your apartment building with your green jacket and rosy rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes with the crinkles around the edges when you smiled. I was a goner, right there.
And yet, none of that love that I felt for you then compares to how we've grown together this last year. It's been stressful, sure, but you are patient and have faith that God will take care of us, and it helps me have faith too. Thanks, Jesse. Thanks for being silly with me and happy with me and sad with me and hopeful with me and joyful with me. You are my best friend. I love you.
Love,
your Catherine-wife
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