To Elua
Oh sweet Angel,
I know not the words to express the swelling of my heart, the feeling that overwhelms me, somewhere between profound joy and deep shame. Perhaps it is good that they come together, that the intensity of one feeling might not overwhelm without the other by its side. But even this pain is one that brings me happiness.
I do not know the best way to thank you for him, or even if it is right and proper that I should do so at all. I never expected, when I promised to live a life at his side, that it would always be a smooth path. I may not have anticipated that the trials would come in the shape that they did do, but I always knew that there would be trials. I ask forgiveness, always, for the weaknesses I have in standing up to them, betimes.
And I resolve to be stronger from now on. To hold fast to the promises that he has made to me and to the words that he has written to me. No man has ever been more devoted to his wife, more gentle, more genuine, more loving. My deepest wish is that I knew how to write something back to him that would touch his heart equally. But with every attempt to do so my mind feels small, clumsy, inept.
I vow then to show him in body what I cannot in words. Let my skin under his fingertips be for him what his ink to the page was for me.
A reminder of love.
I know not the words to express the swelling of my heart, the feeling that overwhelms me, somewhere between profound joy and deep shame. Perhaps it is good that they come together, that the intensity of one feeling might not overwhelm without the other by its side. But even this pain is one that brings me happiness.
I do not know the best way to thank you for him, or even if it is right and proper that I should do so at all. I never expected, when I promised to live a life at his side, that it would always be a smooth path. I may not have anticipated that the trials would come in the shape that they did do, but I always knew that there would be trials. I ask forgiveness, always, for the weaknesses I have in standing up to them, betimes.
And I resolve to be stronger from now on. To hold fast to the promises that he has made to me and to the words that he has written to me. No man has ever been more devoted to his wife, more gentle, more genuine, more loving. My deepest wish is that I knew how to write something back to him that would touch his heart equally. But with every attempt to do so my mind feels small, clumsy, inept.
I vow then to show him in body what I cannot in words. Let my skin under his fingertips be for him what his ink to the page was for me.
A reminder of love.