a letter to the man who'll make me an honest woman

dear husband-to-be,

in

turns out i may not be so much of a city-gal as once was thought.
and i want the blinds pulled up, the curtains drawn, the windows open as much as possible.
i don't do well with dishes in the sink.
and i'll need you to remind me to do things every once-and-a-while, like pick up paper-toweling at the grocery store.
i want pictures everywhere and beautiful dishes.
and a garden outside. a yard, even.
i want the ability to obtain home-grown beef-steak tomatoes. (have you had them with garlic, balsamic vinegar and a little feta? nectar of the gods, i say. nectar of the gods).

will you be okay with these things?


that's all. for today. i suppose.

dear husband-to-be,

in

so i guess you should know.

that.

i fell in love with a guy a very long time ago. and he did not fall in love with me.

and around this time i fell out of love with myself.

and all this love and lack of love became very confusing.

i have a girlfriend who recently came out of a relationship and decided to take a weekend trip to meet up with a guy. she was in need of a sorbet, she said. something to cleanse the pallet. i said, if you're in need of a sorbet, i'm in need of some smelling salts. something to bring me back to life.

so i've decide to go in search of them. smelling salts, that is. lots of them. in all different flavors. so that i'll be wide awake. all refreshed and lived in and back-to-life when i meet you.

because i can't wait to meet you.




love, love,

the girl in search of sal volatile

if only i could. peek, that is.

in

to my one-day-pal,




did you do school plays as a child?

do you remember the heavy velvet curtains through which you'd peek just before a performance?

ours were green. hard to pull apart.

those moments just before were the most exciting, weren't they?

the lights backstage all off.

peering through to a lit theatre, or auditorium, or cafeteria: rear-window in reverse.

i always peeked. did you?

i remember looking out during my first-year discovery project at juilliard. there were no curtains. no dimmed lights. open-air. i was in love with a boy then and wanted only to know where he was sitting.

and i remember a production during my fourth year, looking through wooden slats and spotting kevin spacey. word spread quickly and more than one performance was charged with that knowledge. silly actors.

i think all actors do it. peek and peer. no matter the performance space or the cost of the ticket. if they don't i'm quite sure i wouldn't care to be friends with them--too uppity about it all.
it's one of those necessary rituals. theatre as religion.

the moment just before.

that's what everything feels like right now.
like you're on the other side of that heavy, green curtain. and if i could just push it to the side and catch a glimpse--poke a small hole through the black paper covering the window.

like i'm in the dark room waiting to emerge in the light.





love, love,

me





image via sabino.

in

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