When I set out to write you this, I turned to Google. You probably expected that already, seeing as I am a searcher – of answers, of goodness, of guides.
I thought our letter would be tucked deep down on page 15 of the search results, not yet discovered by even the most devout Internet crawlers. But I know it won’t. I know it has to look different from any other letter out there, because I imagine we’ll be different from any other couple out there.
There will be parts of me to learn over and over, like sifting grains of sand again and again to get to the finest particles until, finally, you know me. And I you.
But in the meantime, in this not-yet-something part of our lives, I’d like to say a few things.
I’m going to be hard to know. At first, you will have me pinned as the kind of girl who is just small and quiet. I can assure you that is not the case. There are not enough square feet inside me to hold every dream, every fear, every hope of mine. But I’m so glad you’ve decided to learn them one by one.
Isn’t that the only way to learn someone?
I hope you’re both apologetic and stubborn. I hope we both are, standing our ground when necessary but compassionate when we’ve done wrong. I hope we admit those moments, rather than build them inside until we cannot breathe without spilling them all over the house, like socks falling out of the laundry basket as I haul it up the stairs.
This is not about me. I don’t want to find myself knee deep in a monologue of things you’ve done—or not done—over the last day, week, year. I’d like it to be about us. The decisions we make and the ones we wish we didn’t have to settle on.
I am an expert at worrying. Plenty of people will tell you that. I just hope, if my cousin leans over at the rehearsal dinner and whispers it in your ear, it’s not the first time you’ve heard that. I hope you’ve already figured out how to settle me when I am sure, so very sure, the world is ending. Good news: the supposed apocalypse will have already happened before we wed.
You’re getting the family package. It’s me, my sister, my parents, my cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents and those friends of mine who have been in my life since I was 13 and more awkward than the Disney Channel has led you to believe. And we will be welcoming, so welcoming, but protective like whoa.
And lastly, I must tell you, my heart belongs to the New York Giants. I hope you’re OK with that.
With Love & Hope,
By the way, every month I send out a short + sweet newsletter brimming with cool finds related to the monthly theme. It'd be stellar if you subscribed. If it's not worthy, it doesn't go in the newsletter. That. Simple.