Today, I am starting a new series called "Dear You".Every month, I will write an open letter to someone or something. I love this idea and I hope you do too! To start things off, I am writing to none other than my hubby.
I love going places with you. You can turn the most mundane places into something magical, exotic and exciting. I used to think that I needed to travel to the corners of the world to be thrilled by travel, but somehow you've made places like Hartford, Connecticut and Gettysburg, Pennsylvania feel like a dream to me.
Lately, life has been rush around, stay late at work, over time, jam packed weekends, broken down cars, phones dropped in water, panic attacks and to do lists.
It's been anything but glamorous.
As a result, our tempers have flared. The stress of the outside has affected what's inside our little one bedroom apartment. There have been words and tones and volumes of voice that speak nothing but stress that is wrongly directed at the one I vowed to love.
I'm stressed over to do lists, graduating on time, trying not to lose my sanity and hour long commutes...not the fact that you forgot to do what you said you would or that you looked at me the wrong way.
I'm sorry for the way that I've allowed myself to forget the way you sweep me off my feet and take me to far off magical places that only exist between me and you. I'm sorry I've let my own little world that's full of chaos and confusion wreck my heart in a way that hurts you.
Thank you for being there for me at the end of every long day. For making me dinner. For buying me wine. For helping with laundry. For filling my car with gas. For rubbing my back. For passing up watching your late night TV so you can be in bed with me as I fall asleep. For going into work late when my car broke down. For leaving work early when the car got a flat tire. For leaving work early when I just couldn't do it that one day.
You mean more to me than you'll ever know.