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

the walk from the subway home is one of my very favorite things now. second place is lush in a way that is deeply comforting. just the other night i got home late, followed the usual parade of people out of the mouth of the train, past the rows of brownstones. it was dark, quiet, and i walked slowly studying the different doors and entryways. i was struck by a narrow staircase in one--the beauty of it such that my heart began to ache.

i wonder if you and i will ever live here together, in this particular neighborhood. i wonder if you will find such things beautiful, as i do, staircases and side streets. i wonder where we'll vacation, how we'll spend our saturday mornings, what book will be on your bedside table the first time you invite me over. if you'll have go-to karaoke song. if you'll be braver than me. and i wonder which side of the bed you'll sleep on. if you'll like thunderstorms--that particular green-gray that paints the sky. what you'll let me get away with and what you won't. if you'll like to nap like i do.

i dreamt last night that you were near. surely a gal can hope.

with all this thought and talk about home of late, it is not lost on me, that one day--should i be so lucky--you will be almost the whole of that answer.

yours, always yours