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A letter to my husband

Updated on June 24, 2017

A letter to my husband

Dear King,

It’s weird. I really don’t know where to start or what to say. I feel like we have no problem saying I love you. I guess I could start with the standard I love you. I appreciate you. Thank you for loving me. But that all seems trite. It doesn’t complete the thought it the feelings. There’s so much more to our relationship and what I want to say than that which has already been said.

From day one of meeting me, you have accepted me. All of me. My light and dark sides, my gray hair that’s sometimes purple and sometimes red, my indecisions, my reluctance to make choices, big or little, my broken pieces. You love me despite my religious views, my political insights, and my crazy Pinterest addiction that leads into epic Pinfails.


You have seen me at my worst, snot pouring out of my face, drooling hanging off my chin, sweating, shaking. You held me to your chest, let me crumble in your arms when my heart turned to dust. Your love filled the cracks of my broken spirit, your strength stitched all the pieces back better and stronger than before.

You haven’t seen me at my best yet. For as good as things are now, I know it’s only going to get better. There’s no one else I would want to stand by my side through the next fifty to sixty years. I have to admit to a little sadness that it took me 35 years to find you. So, let’s make the best of the time we have, ok?

We’ve already been through so much. Exes, kids, moving, money. You have stood by and supported and led the charge. You are all the best qualities anyone could want and need in a partner. You’re strong, decisive, commanding, but loving and gentle when the situation calls for it. And you’re pretty easy on the eyes.

I love how we can have conversations about everything and nothing. We speak in movie lines. We discuss string theory, Hawkins, and Einstein and the next minute we’re laughing at Trevor on GTA V and stupid windmill races. You let me prattle on about gardening and homeschooling and yarn. It’s really nice not having to dumb down my conversation. I love how you challenge me to think differently about things I thought I knew. I appreciate how you don’t make me feel less than stellar if I don’t know anything. You really don’t know how much that means to me.


Above all there’s one thing that stands out. Of course it can only be from a wise philosopher such as Dory from “Finding Nemo.” When I look at you, I’m home. For thirteen years I have been away from Philly, my life, my family, my friends, everything and everyone I ever knew. I tried for so long to fit in and make Missouri my home, not just a place to live. I made a life, a family, friends, and a career but still felt like a stranger in a strange land, fighting for my place in a world where I didn’t feel quite right. I was the proverbial square peg trying to round my corners to fit in a round hole. And then you came along and you loved my corners, and never once have you asked me to try to fit where I don’t belong. All the rest just fell away, leaving me with you and a new dream and a new home. The old dream turned to dust like a vampire Buffy staked. The wind blew it away. It didn’t matter anymore. It’s not where we live, or the house. It’s you. Where you go, I’ll go too, because you are my Home. You protect the beautiful children you’ve given me, you shelter us and keep us warm. You are Home.

And for that, I love you. Thank you.

Love,

Your Glorious Trainwreck of a wife

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