I woke up to a cold bed, H already miles away from me. His mom had picked him up an hour ago to take him to the airport—I had work today so I couldn’t. I ran my hand across his side of the bed, cool to touch, and then reached for his pillow.
There was something under his pillow, and when I retrieved it, three sheets of paper, rough because of the ridges that H’s handwriting made. I knew it was for me, and a part of me got nervous, wondering if this letter was in any way related to the notes I’ve found in the house in the woods.
I grabbed my glasses from the nightstand and put them on. I took three deep breaths before unfolding the letter, and then started to read.
My face wasn’t dry after reading that (I mean, would yours be?). I was smiling too, and then even if I hadn’t prayed in a long while, I uttered a prayer, thanking the heavens that I found this man.
I re-folded the letter, and then took a picture of it. I messaged him, attaching the letter: “YOU ARE THE BEST. I LOVE YOU.”
And then I tweeted him: I am the luckiest woman in the planet because I have you, @H_____S____. Always, K. #morethanthis
I knew that wasn’t enough, and I raked my mind, trying to think of how to give back.