Before we got married, Tommy and I were effusive letter writers. We bled on pages and screens.
Long emails, love notes and poems. Even journals which we’d exchange in the rare seasons we didn’t get to see each other often.
He was an idealist (they make amazing romantics!) and I absorbed it like a sponge. I was the center of his world, and he was the center of mine. We dreamed, we laughed, we hoped.
After we go married, our letter writing (and hormone-driven wake) slowed down.