(T, self-portrait. Feb 16, 2005)

My sweet T,

Last night as I was driving home from work I wrote you the best letter ever. This morning as I try to capture some of that letter on the page it all comes out crap. Isn?t that always the way?

Well, not always. Somewhere in our storage unit buried in some box under boxes and boxes of stuff are two 3-ring binders filled with letters, poems, and love notes we have sent each other over the years. I really wish I had those binders here with me this morning cause I know I could so easily post one of your poems and then all your beauty and magic would be revealed and my mission here this morning would be accomplished.

Oh well.

By now I know you are cringing and saying, ? oh JEEEEzus,? and kicking your head back in embarrassment that I would go public on you. Sorry, but as I?ve told you on more than one occasion, you need a bigger audience than me. Your brilliance and artistry and ability to make or figure out anything that you set your mind to is overwhelming. I could beat my hands together for a hundred years and shout myself hoarse in cheers and it still wouldn?t be enough. You need a bigger audience even though I know you love hiding from the world.

I could tell of your incredible personal qualities, your gentleness, your kindness, your flair with the bon mot, the way you love me best with my hair natural, loose and curly, and how you try to stop me from straightening it before I go to work every morning. I could tell how your hands are so strong and healing that when you stroke my head and tell me everything?s going to be all right, I know that it is true. I could talk about how you are the god of sex, but I won?t cause that?s just TMI.

But forget all that canoodling gak. What I really sat down to write was, damn, we have fun.

Who else would create a list of secret code questions with me in case one of us ever got kidnapped by aliens and a pod was put in our place and we had to check whether or not they were really real?

Who else would talk to me in some hybrid acronym language that only we can understand?

Who else knows all the rules to my favorite wrestling game ?I?m Stronger??

T, it?s crazy how long we?ve been together and how old we are. And I?ll be honest, getting old sucks. I hate it. Sure we are smarter and wiser and more content but the aging body thing--- grrrrr. But when I think of all we?ve been through together. All the awful, awful stuff we thought we?d never survive and how we supported each other through those long days, I?m more in love with you than ever.

God way over-delivered on my wish for a wonderful man in my life. I got so much more than I ever dreamed was possible. I hope this doesn?t mean I owe him a blowjob, or anything. (It better not because really, can you imagine the pressure?).

Whoa. I can?t end this letter like that. I?m going to grab one of your notes to me. I know this one by heart because I put it on the cover of the second binder. You dashed it off on the back of an envelope in purple ink before you left for work one morning and it captures everything for me.

If you were a fish
I would be the ocean
My love all around you
My love all around you

Happy Birthday, darling. You're the best.

P.S. Here's some parsley. Chew on it. It will ward off the nausea.

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