A Letter to My Heartstring

Dear Mr. H.,

When you and I first met at school, I thought you were handsome to boot. I remember sitting behind you, listening to your sexy radio voice, and thinking “Look at that guy, being all tall, dark, and handsome.” I was leaving a not-so-good long-distance relationship at the time of our meeting. Love that was anything but platonic was for the birds, and I wasn’t about to give another romance a chance. “Sure he’s cute,” I said to myself, “but I’ll get over it. He can go be cute somewhere else, and I’ll just mind my business.”

A few months later, we ended up in a study group together. Dr. Powers’ class. First Term. I had no choice but to get to know you. You were still hot, but I was still stubborn. You became more and more attractive, but I became more and more determined to not be attracted to you.

I didn’t get it. The harder I tried to push you away, the harder it became. I think I learned about that one time in psychology class, and there’s probably some fancy name for when that happens, but whatever… I was confused. And it was hard… especially when you ended up coming over for Christmas that year.

Anyway, you got to be so attractive that I inevitably had to avoid you at all costs. You weren’t going to take my heart, no sir. My little vital organ was mine to keep with all its cracks and repair jobs. Needless to say, I put my blinders on toward you, and probably was even pretty rude to you. But I just couldn’t even let myself say hello. Goodness sakes alive, I felt terribly dramatic.

Then, one night in April, it rained, and we walked in it for 2 whole hours. By the end of it, I was freezing, soaked to the bone, with hair drenched like a drowned Pomeranian….but as absolutely happy as I could be.

You swept me off my little feet.

Long story short, 3 years later, and I get to be married to you, and that’s pretty awesome.

I love you more than I love coffee and cartoons.

And by the way, I’m elated that you drink coffee and watch cartoons with me.

I love that you’re into superheroes and Hayao Miyazaki movies. Thank you for laughing at “The Emperor’s New Groove” and crying (at least, almost crying) at the end of “Howl’s Moving Castle” with me. Thanks for thinking that the 1970’s version of “The Hobbit” is just as awesome as I do. You have a child’s heart just like Howl does. You get so excited about Autobots and Decepticons that I can’t help but be excited with you.

You sometimes dub yourself as not that intelligent, but you stagger me with some of the thoughts you share with me. Shoot, babe…you’re smart. A deep-rooted thinker. You find meaning in everything from music to movies to dandelions growing in between the sidewalk cracks. You’re such a hard worker on top of that… you’re what we call a “keeper”.

Sometimes, your compassion blows me away. The homeless person walking down the street gets the same kindness that your own brother would. You help me introspect my own actions, my own intentions. You help push me toward being a more truthful person, someone who doesn’t just say she loves Jesus, but show it in the every day-to-day. It’s largely because of you that I’m a more consistent pray warrior these days and that I finally have the “Full Armor of God” memorized.

I think it’s SO cool that your mom is black and your dad is white. Maybe that’s not the PC way to say it, but I love that our children will know a beautiful, colorful family.

Your creativity encourages me to be inventive and try new things. There’s not many people I would write a song for. I hope you get to use your artistic ability in all the ways you want soon.

The way you talk to your grandmother on the phone is one of the most endearing things I’ve ever heard.

Even on the days where we’ve been furious at each other (and hoo boy nelly… we’ve had some  humdingers),  I didn’t doubt that you loved me.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m really glad it rained that night. I’m really glad we got caught in it. I’m really glad my stubbornness broke down. I’m really glad you’re mine.

And let’s just say we never met or that we successfully ignored each other (ironic how you avoided me all those months, too, eh?). Our lives would have plugged on just fine and the earth would still be pivoting now.

But I’d be sure something was missing. I know I would.

Thank you for asking me to marry you. It’s been a pretty awesome year so far, and I’m looking forward to many years to come.

I love you forever,

your wifey

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