dear bryan,

i am writing in all lower-case because it’s one o’clock in the morning and i’m on my defunct ibook and i’m lazy and i can.

you have been gone since wednesday afternoon. which, you know, is too long.

i was bound and determined to finish our book club selection for february, my sister’s keeper, before you got back so you didn’t have to be in the same room with me while i read.

and damn, it’s a good thing, because i am still a mess over it.

first and foremost, what killed me about this book was the parents are named sara and brian. those are our names, mispelled. but they remind me of us. they talk about fitting together. he has blue eyes and a cleft in his chin. he is sensitive and cautious; she is rational and fiery. it is often hard to sympathize with her, but he gives up easily. they balance eachother out.

so we can NEVER have kids named anna, kate, and/or jesse. i’m sorry, but those names are out.

i know it bugs you that i sleep well when you’re gone, but i sleep well anywhere. i sleep well with steph. i sleep through hailstorms. sleeping is not something i particularly treasure.

i miss forehead kisses, though. i miss stretching on the couch and feeling your hand in the small of my back, trying to knead the day out of my spine. i miss tracing your face as you sleep in the morning, and marveling over how you will always look 18. i miss our thousands hugs a day, and knowing that you’ll be at the house when i come home from rehearsal. i miss watching your eyes laugh.

you cannot get home fast enough.

(but take your time driving, because.. DAMN. you have GOT to read this book.)

your wife,
me