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December 25, 2011

a love letter on christmas.

dear love,

at dinner last night, i was thinking about our first christmas together. maybe it'll be next year, or maybe five years from now.

i'll let you sleep in. i'll get up early to run and write. i'll bring you coffee. and we'll make breakfast together: blueberry pancakes and bacon. you'll remember how crispy i like it. you'll remember things.

you'll be on time for dinner. you'll cook something that will make people fall in love with you. you'll be hounded for the recipe. you'll be gracious and share it.

you'll be the kind of man who plays on the floor with my cousins, rotating dolls, trucks, and puzzles. the kind of man to accompany me to mass, and you'll wear a collared shirt without me asking you to. the kind of man who is just as happy watching "a charlie brown christmas" as he is watching the football game. the kind of man who won't complain when i ask him to go for a walk late on christmas eve to look at the lights and trees in people's living rooms. we'll hold hands as it snows and i may cry because sometimes christmas is too much for words, too wonderful for words. but you'll know what to say.

i'll fall asleep on your shoulder during "a christmas story." you'll wake me right before ralphie goes to see santa because you know how much i laugh at the kid in front of him in line. when i cry during the ending of "it's a wonderful life," which i always do, kiss me. then kiss me again. i don't even need mistletoe, although, i'd love if you got some.

i can see all of these things; i just can't see your face. i like it that way.

i hope i don't meet you before i figure out a few things, mainly myself.

buon natale, wherever you are.

love,
me


(Photo: Pinterest)



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