Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

On Stormy Nights

“The rain beats hard at my window
While you, so softly do sleep
And you can’t hear the cold wind blow
You are sleeping so deep

Outside it’s dark, the moon hiding
By starlight only I see
The host of the night-time go riding
But you are safe here with me…”
Secret Garden

Dear Darling,

The raindrops are still faintly tapping on the roof tonight as I sit here writing to you. Aside from the various whirs and hums that modern society learns to ignore and perhaps a distant rumble of thunder, everything is quiet.

Everything is quiet.

It’s not unwelcome, and yet it is. It’s been an enormously busy week, and now I’m poised on an island of silence, enjoying the respite of darkness before taking another breath and plunging back into another day.

I feel like there’s still something left to do before I turn out the light…like there’s an unfinished task I haven’t discovered.

I think of the times when the inferno of our love settles down to a steady blaze, when we become comfortable in each other’s company and the sacred and wonderful times of sharing our thoughts become commonplace.

We’re going to have so much to talk about, you and I. We’ll have an entire lifetime of thoughts, hurts, loves, dreams, hopes and memories to catch up on, and all while we’ll start making more of them in our lives together. That’s going to be one of the things that tells us we’ve found each other you know, when hours of conversation feel like minutes, when we connect and click on so many levels in so many ways. Maybe that’s when we’ll start to realize a greater power was at work to make us for each other, and we never had anything to worry about.

Times like tonight will be the times I’ll appreciate the most. Okay, so I’ll appreciate all of them, but those drowsy quiet times when our day and our minds are slowing down and we can enjoy that peaceful bedroom conversation will be full of comfort and belonging.

There’s a simple and beautiful contradiction in the words “alone together.”

Can’t you see it? There’s one or two lamps left on by the bed. I might be reading a book and you might be brushing your hair. Maybe we’ll both be reading books. Maybe we can read to each other. Would you like that? I enjoy narrating books and dramatizing them. I’ll be fine with watching some nighttime television, but I never want to have a TV in our room, or make that our nightly routine.

We’ll sort out our problems, and the problems of the world. We’ll agree about things, and disagree about others. We’ll work out schedules and details, we’ll share new secrets about our lives in sudden moments of vulnerability or tenderness.

And then, we fold up the books, pull up the covers, turn out the lights, a goodnight kiss (or two!) before snuggling in and just listening. Listening to each other, or the crickets, or our slow breathing as we drift off to dream, or….or perhaps the rain on the roof.

Those will be the moments where we are perfectly content just to be alive and in each other’s company…the moments when life will be complete. The greatest of joys, from the smallest of pleasures.

‘Tis a a bitter and cruel comfort for one man to sleep in a bed meant for two. But I smile fondly with thoughts of our future, and send you all my love from our past.

Love always,

“So, while the world out there is sleeping
And everyone wrapped up so tight
Oh, I am here a vigil keeping
On this stormy night
I promised I always would love you
If skies would be gray or be blue
I whisper this prayer now above you
That there will always be you.”

April 5, 2012 - Posted by | Anticipation, Loneliness, Nights Like These, Songs

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