Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

Coming Home

09. Vettriano, Jack - Back Where You Belong

Dear Darling,

What if you had been waiting for me when I returned?

Oh I know it’s a far-fetched idea. We don’t know each other. No matter what arcane notions I have about knowing you when I see you, the truth is we have an elaborate, possibly complicated, maybe even messy path ahead of us in getting to know each other. It’s the uncertainty that makes things so scary — and so exciting.

But I allow the idea to enter my head for fantasy’s sake, or for the sake of the different way these events will repeat themselves in the future.

I am a traveler, my dear. I’m not a gypsy or a rolling stone, but desire and need both drive me to travel. I like to travel. There are some who use it as an opportunity to look down on those who don’t. I hope I don’t do that, but there’s no doubt in my mind, travel lends a unique perspective on the world. It does open up your horizons a little, helps you see both how small and how significant we really are.

This trip, unlike any other, helped me relax, unwind and be comfortable around friends. Perhaps for the first time, accepted as a peer among peers. It allowed me more freedom than my previous trips have. And it gave me a portrait of what recreational travel might be like when we’re together all the time. A shadow of your future memory accompanied me to every restaurant, every airport and every beachfront. It’s like I previewed our trips before we’ve taken them. And yes, mentally I’m taking notes.

Not all our travel will be fun. And heaven knows, not all of it will necessarily be mine. Maybe it will be me out there in that cell phone lot, waiting for your plane to arrive, standing just behind the airport column with a bouquet of flowers to surprise you. Maybe for once, we’ll be that couple embracing with the kind of affectionate reunion that reminds me of heaven. One of us descends the stairs and descries the other among the crowd of expectant faces. The rest of the crowd, and then the entire airport, fade into the periphery as we rush into each other’s arms. We’ll spend a few minutes in our own little cocoon of bliss, I’ll give you your flowers and you’ll give me a kiss. I always try to bring back souvenirs, so you can look forward to that too. (This trip, it was chocolate.) Or upon your return, I’ll grab your bags and we’ll go out to the car. I’ll pack the bags in, then get your door for you. I’ll climb into the driver side and in the silence of the car, we’ll lean over the console and lose ourselves in another kiss before I put it in gear and immediately begin the inquiries about the trip.

Or maybe this will be some of the early defining moments before we’re married, when the pangs of absence first begin to promote the furtherance of our affections and you call on me to pick you up.

Today, of course, I descended the stairs alone. I watched the happy reunions around me, alone. I retrieved my luggage alone and walked into the rain, where my father took me home.

I think there is much travel in store for both of us darling, for both business and pleasure. If I should prove so unfortunate as to be without you on our travel, then I hope I can anticipate finding you there to meet me when I come home. I hope I can check in with you every night, talking in hushed tones while laying across the hotel bed with my blazer beside me, my collar and tie loosened and my sleeves unbuttoned. I hope when I come home at the end of the day, I might at least sometimes find you waiting behind the door to ambush me with a kiss, or maybe more.

I hope…I just hope that one day, I’ll come home and you’ll be waiting for me.

Love ever,
Beren

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June 9, 2013 Posted by | Anticipation | Leave a comment