Letters to my future Wife: Through the view-finder

In this moment, we are strangers.  You, are just an idea in my head: blurry and out of focus, far off and in the distance.  And I would run without sleep or rest’ from here until the moment our lives meet and intersect– if I could see you or if it meant’ I could be with you any quicker.  

But in this moment, we are strangers.  Your name has never graced my lips, we have yet to share our first kiss.  I’ve yet to brush the hair from your eyes, I’ve yet to make you breakfast in bed.  Ahead of us, are nights where we fall asleep next to each other like two Twix in a wrapper, and I wake entangled and enthralled with your face inches from mine.  Ahead of us, are a thousand little talks, where I’m smitten by your clever words and turn of phrase.    Ahead of us are passionate nights, and sun soaked days.   Ahead of us, are a million four-legged-steps, hand in hand as we traverse sandy beaches, and shopping malls, salsa two-step while I step on you with my two left’  “oops sorry” and slow-dance through weddings, and parties, and banquet halls.  Ahead of us is our first home purchase, and me rubbing your swollen stomach every day before the birth of our first kid.

Ahead of us are trials and tribulations, like when I compare you to your mother, though you know I love her and I say things without thinking sometimes.  Because you know that this mouth of mine runs afoul with the taste of foot’ every now and again, but I make up for it’ in the long view– I’m good for you, for every moment when you needed me I was there, with the right words at the right time, and the right arms and the right life — and before the lights go out I’m forgiven and we’re living in linen and in love.

But in this moment, we are strangers.  And I can’t wait to meet you.  But it seems I’m going to have to.

Or maybe, just maybe… I already have.