music friday: our 44th anniversary
the wall

it was 24 years ago today

We were going through some old stuff ... I was posting pictures of our wedding on Facebook ... and Robin came across a sealed envelope for her with a handwritten date: May 26, 2013. Her name is in my handwriting, the date is in her handwriting, so I’m thinking we read this, sealed it, and forgot about it. Until today.

She opened it and found two pages of single-spaced writing from yours truly. Some excerpts:

[I] remember that when we were in high school, and sometimes even when we were first married, and I’d be fucking up like usual and you wouldn’t be able to get me to understand, and so you’d sit at home while I was gone and write me these letters that would tell what you’d been thinking about and you would always tell me that you loved me the most.

And since I don’t know what else to do, I’m writing you a letter now, like you used to write to me, and when I’m done maybe you’ll know that I love you the most!

I think when I was miserable all the time I probably told you more about what I was thinking than I do now, because in those days I would get where I couldn’t take it anymore and I’d freak out and we’d have a long talk and I’d confess stuff. Since I don’t freak out as much as I used to, I don’t confess as often. Somehow it ends up that the more normal I get the less I tell you, or something like that....

[I]t’s hard for me to decide if you think the first 20 years of our marriage have been the best, because I’m not quite certain what you have wanted from those years. That’s not quite it; what you want seems so low-key that I keep thinking you want something more and it’s my fault that I don’t know what it is.

I haven’t the foggiest idea what I want. I’m sure I’ll come up with something by the end of this paragraph, and I’ll mean it when I say it, but I’m not much for long-range planning. I just let stuff happen for the most part. For all my navel-gazing I sure don’t spend much time thinking about anything real, do I? But if I am honest, I can at least say that I couldn’t imagine the last 20 years without you, anymore than I can imagine the next 20 without you. I don’t know what love is, but when you can’t even imagine life without a certain someone special, it must be something like love, don’t you suppose? ...

[H]ere I am, writing and writing, and who would have thought it, but as I near 40, we have basically established that I am a dork with few skills and useless talents ... but I know how to write. And so this letter is kinda like if I was a carpenter and I built you a bathtub. (Who builds bathtubs, anyway?) ...

And I couldn’t have gotten to the place I am now, without you. I’m sorry this is turning out to be more about me than about us, but I guess that’s how is always turns out when I’m doing the talking, and I can’t help but look back on our 20 years of marriage and think how lucky I am to have you, and how little my life would have meant without you. Everyone else I know, no matter what else they do, when they go home, they don’t get to go home to you. I do. That’s why I’d rather be me than them, why I’d rather be me than anyone ... because I get to be with you....

Maybe you could stick this letter in your purse or something, and put a date on the outside that reads “May 26 2013” and then when that date comes we can open it up and read it again and laugh about how silly we were way back in 1993. I know it seems silly to think about us in 1973. We didn’t know shit, but we turned out pretty good, don’t you think?