Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

Sundry Thoughts for June, Pt. 2

Dear Darling,

It’s as beautiful a June night as you could ask for. There’s a crescent moon hanging high, the air is a perfect 75 degrees, and the humidity is just right.

I finished up work this morning, showered, ate and slept for six hours before going to the second job. I met some friends afterward for dinner, then visited an acquaintance in the hospital. And at the end of the day, as if I should be surprised, I found thoughts of you waiting.

As I pulled out of the lot, that familiar urge to grab my phone and call you sunk in. And I felt like I should already know you, we should already be at the place where I can pick up the phone and call you. (You’ll be able to expect calls from me with some reliability, you know.) And then I thought even better, that you should be here for us to turn up the music and find some back roads to drive through.

It’s been a long week. By week’s end, I’ll have logged a little over sixty hours. Sometimes it feels like simply reliving the same day. Some nights it’s like living in slow motion.

The other day I was driving in and thought about how a little from you would go a long way. I thought if I could just get a pat on the back, a “hang in there” and a kiss goodbye, I’d be set for the next 72 hours, no matter how difficult. And then I think that maybe I’ll have that same power over you. That maybe taking you into my arms, looking you squarely in the eyes, cupping your face in my hands and reminding you that you’ll be alright, better than alright, amazing. Maybe I’ll have the ability to lift you ten feet off the ground with a touch. Maybe a little from me will go a long way. 

I came home the next day, a little tired, and found a note from a friend of my roommate’s, scheduled to come to the house to do some work. I try to avoid being alone with single women behind closed doors, but that wasn’t entirely practical, and impropriety was not even close to the scene. It’s rare to discover a note with my name on it, courteously informing me of the next time she was planning to come. A small thing, perhaps, professional and scarcely affectionate, but it made me smile that while I slept, she thought of me enough to leave me a note.

The word “love” came to my mind unbidden during a quiet period of time at work. As if I would voluntarily bid that unkind sentiment to arise in my mind! I wonder if I have ever been loved by anyone outside of family, whose affections or at least obligations are somewhat compulsory. I wonder if either of us really know what love means…and I wonder what it’s going to look like when I can finally tell you that for the first time, and watch your response.

Lately it seems like the people who talk to me, who listen and are friends, are drifting away or creating distance, and it makes me miss you more. At times, I feel like I’m repeating ideas in these letters, reaching out to you in them because talking at you is the closest thing to talking with you. I reread them sometimes — often in fact. Some of them seem rather poorly-written in retrospect, but I dearly hope you’ll cherish them as much as I think.

Times of testing makes us stronger, my love. To be stretched beyond endurance…to have faith that the sufferings of solitude have no comparison, that better days are in store, the kind to make us forget nights like this, and yet sufficient to make all their agony sweeter and worthwhile.

Good-night, my beautiful darling. I love you.

Beren

June 16, 2013 - Posted by | Nights Like These, Sundry Thoughts

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