To Mr. Morgan..... 4 years

We start song... then we read.

Dear Mr. Morgan,

Hi again, another year later that has offered us both challenges and frustrations that is fairly normal for this amount of time. Anyone who doesn’t half lose their mind living together for this long would be considered some form of hybrid robot. We are on the Wednesday of marriages. It’s Humpyear baby.

It is important to write and reflect annually on this day, as time slips away and we forget the details that someday may be a reason to remember who we were, at this point of life, as people naturally change with the passing days. I never want us to forget why we fell in love and why nothing is ever important enough to become an obstacle to it.

I elate in some of the things that have not lost their novelty like your sock cleaning rituals did early on. I watch you like some sort of moving piece of art, and I don’t think you know how keenly or often I am guilty of doing this. I consider it admiration, and if we weren’t married, it would carry a very different calling – obsessed stalker.

Admittedly, when you enter a room and everyone suddenly comes to life I am jealous, childishly wanting to vie for the attention but watching you in your element is very much a silent pleasure. I wonder if you think I am just doing my best to not shriek and flap around hopping, as is my way, or if I am genuinely letting you enjoy your time with no tension. Honestly, sometimes I don’t even know the answer to that. The wanting to flap and hop came early in my life, and I know you love my hopflap, and that it is simply on occasion ill-timed. We do in the house, often share the moment of flip flapping and wiggles, it fills me with glee as I haven't many who join that sort of thing.

You are not privy to most of my writings and certainly not to my conversations about you, it is my mistake to talk so well about you instead of saying it TO you as often as I should, but I rave of you as if you were a trophy on a shelf to invite people over for a gander. A stuffed fish if you will, the one that wasn’t getting away even if it grew legs and tried to run. I’ve had a rough year, and it is only my fault that I don’t include you enough. Or at all. You truly are the most forgiving and trustworthy person in my life and I cannot explain why I shelter you from getting in. I think I am afraid to let you down, and you would be so hurt to know I thought that, it’s impossible to explain. I want to be everything, and that lacks logic. I am so scared, but just to have you around gives me a sense of security that makes the frights seem like a storybook tale and I calm. You have no idea how much you lend to my not being found screaming in a ball somewhere in Vegas wondering who stole my loaf of bread. You are what centers and reminds me that life is what it is, and no matter what it offers, I won’t be alone.

Do you know that you smack your lips every night when you sleep as though you are being served slopping king sized portions, then you move to grinding your teeth in a circular rhythm that makes me wonder how you haven’t sawed them to nubs. You smile a lot in your sleep too, I ponder who you are sleeping with in your dreams, then poke you in the ribs hoping it will turn into a nightmare. You don’t know any better, snort, and turn to your other side.

Moments ago you did a happy ass wiggle over biscuits, and proceeded to use the toilet as you proudly ate it, and yet a burp or other bodily slip in my presence produces the most embarrassed look on your face. I wonder at what year of our marriage you will allow a hearty fart in my company and be proud of it. Not that I want you to pick up the habit but it’s fair for anyone to say that there are some farts to applaud. I wait for yours with hands ready to give a standing ovation.

I love you babe, here’s to another.

-DM