The Mother Hen

A Letter to My Husband

Dearest Jeffrey,

Today I was in a cafe and saw a couple eating breakfast. They were our parents' age and sat in silence. Time had aged their skin and hair and I could tell this eating routine was one they had settled in to years ago.

Certainly their days once must have been like ours are now: eating out is an adventure with young babies at our sides and macaroni and cheese being thrown on the floor. Maybe it was during those years that they began slipping away from each other.

I remember when Samuel was born and everyone told us our marriage would fall to the wayside because we would be so focused on "the baby". We defied them all as we got stronger and fell more in love as we saw this new side of each other emerge: Mother. Father. And through these changing years I have found that you, you my beloved, are easy to love. It isn't work to be married to you, I don't have to grit my teeth to dream of our future together.

If I could write a poem I would write the most elegant poem there is and it would spill over with my love for you. If I could write a song it would be the most lyrical song there is and I would hum it's tune all day; my adoration put to music. If I could paint a picture the colors and artistry would shout that I am yours and you are mine and it would be hung in museums all over the world; my declaration on canvas. Instead, I give you this promise:

Unlike some, our love will only grow. Years and time will only strengthen our bond. Someday we will slow dance in our kitchen and sing the songs of old lovers. You will borrow my glasses and I will wear your slippers. At night we will roll to the middle of the bed and whisper sacred memories, silver head to silver head. We will laugh when we think of the vows we made by candlelight so many years ago; at the time we had no idea what we were saying but our hearts will have quiet understanding as we have lived our covenant.

I am eternally yours,

Jen