dear love of my life,

i've been thinking of you of late.

and been unable to bring myself to write you.

i became self-conscious.

i think around the age of eighteen someone told me of a friend who had written letters at all the major events in her life and on the day of her wedding, presented it to her husband as her gift to him.

and i thought, perfection.

and i decided, i too, will do this. and thus began my own silent letter-writing-campaign.

and then this lovely, little blog came about. and i wouldn't change a word i've written and i wouldn't give any of it up for all the gold in the leprechaun's pot. but, i fear--i fear you might find these letters before it's time--before either of us is ready.

i keep thinking of john ashberry's at north farm:

Somewhere someone is traveling furiously toward you,

At incredible speed, traveling day and night,

Through blizzards and desert heat, across torrents,

through narrow passes.

But he will know where to find you,

Recognize you when he sees you

i read it and think, of course, has a more perfect idea ever existed? it's such a beautiful and comforting idea--all our lives we are moving rapidly toward this person.

and then we find them.

and then we find them. ay, there's the rub. i think about that moment--that moment of finding them--and all i can think of is junior year of physics and newton's first law of motion:

every object in a state of uniform motion tends to remain in that state of motion unless an external force is applied to it.

euf, of course.

hidden in that first law is the fact that the impact of that outside force cam be brutal.

so you've been traveling all your life in search of this person and then you find them and it's halting--that metaphorical slamming of the brakes. halting? no, not the right word. i mean the force of that stop--traumatic at best. and yes, it's thrilling and yes it's the beginning of everything, but in that moment and the immediate aftermath, i imagine it's nothing short of utterly terrifying

me too.

i'm scared too.

i mean, really scared.

it's a long time, this "till death do us part," no?

i know. me too.

but i'm asking you to be really courageous.

take the leap. okay?

i'll jump with you.

love, love, love, love,

me