Wife,
That’s a term I have been waiting to use for my entire life. I wasn’t always the best at searching for you. I was young and mildly ambitious growing up; other things got in the way because I never knew how much I could love you.
If only I had known.
I’ve told you most of my stories: my days playing sports, the endless reading list I had at my bedside table, and the sleepless nights thinking I would never find you.
I’m eternally grateful that God allowed our paths to cross at that bookstore – how ironic that I was looking for books about love and I found you.
My life taught me to question and second-guess many things: marriage, relationships, and the future.
I had let my doubts and expectations reach into my pockets of hope and faith, stealing my motivation to succeed.
Some would say I was justified in being a stoic.
Not you.
Before I met you, I was full of silly ideas and visions of how the world was. Those things – doubt, disappointment, failure – may be in the world, but they don’t define the world.
Or me.
I’m glad I questioned what was shinning so bright in a dimly lit bookstore. I’m glad I saw you.
Holding a flashlight.
Always,
Yours
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
Wife,
That’s a term I have been waiting to use for my entire life. I wasn’t always the best at searching for you. I was young and mildly ambitious growing up; other things got in the way because I never knew how much I could love you.
If only I had known.
I’ve told you most of my stories: my days playing sports, the endless reading list I had at my bedside table, and the sleepless nights thinking I would never find you.
I’m eternally grateful that God allowed our paths to cross at that bookstore – how ironic that I was looking for books about love and I found you.
My life taught me to question and second-guess many things: marriage, relationships, and the future.
I had let my doubts and expectations reach into my pockets of hope and faith, stealing my motivation to succeed.
Some would say I was justified in being a stoic.
Not you.
Before I met you, I was full of silly ideas and visions of how the world was. Those things – doubt, disappointment, failure – may be in the world, but they don’t define the world.
Or me.
I’m glad I questioned what was shinning so bright in a dimly lit bookstore. I’m glad I saw you.
Holding a flashlight.
Always,
Yours
Request permission to use this poem