A LOVE LETTER TO MY WIFE, MONDAY MORNING
Dearest Deborah,
Some days I go to work and I’m not sure if I’m feeling whole. There are days like that. Then I remember your touch against my leg, your kiss against my lips, the way your hair sprays across the pillow, the way the covers angle off away from you, how you sit and how you walk right after you awaken and walk into the kitchen to see who is making all of that noise.
I’m sorry for waking you. I have to go to work.
Yet I’m not sorry at all. True beauty comes at the moment it is least expected. Watching you squint in the light of the kitchen, your hair not perfect, your face curled up under its weight still asleep, you make my world whole.
You are that beautiful.
Love forever and always, Michael
Some days I go to work and I’m not sure if I’m feeling whole. There are days like that. Then I remember your touch against my leg, your kiss against my lips, the way your hair sprays across the pillow, the way the covers angle off away from you, how you sit and how you walk right after you awaken and walk into the kitchen to see who is making all of that noise.
I’m sorry for waking you. I have to go to work.
Yet I’m not sorry at all. True beauty comes at the moment it is least expected. Watching you squint in the light of the kitchen, your hair not perfect, your face curled up under its weight still asleep, you make my world whole.
You are that beautiful.
Love forever and always, Michael
posted by A Teacher's Log | 5:56 AM
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