By Bill Derby
Have you ever written a love note to your sweetie or a plea of forgiveness? Today, most are love text messages or emails begging forgiveness. Love notes were written with care and neat as possible depending on the age of the author. Requests for forgiveness are sometimes vague and don’t get the point across. I found examples that qualify on both counts. Enjoy
Back Together – I love the security you provide. You’re always there for me, morning to night. Lately though, things have been tough. It could be all this running around, not making enough time for you, for us. Maybe I’ve been leaving too much of the heavy lifting in this relationship up on you. Maybe we’re just getting older, and this is the way it’s going to be from now on.
I want you to know that, however bad it gets, I still love you. You’re not nearly as much of a pain in the neck.
Love at First Sight? – Do I love you? For a moment, I’m struck – you’re Jackie Kennedy, beautiful smile and perfectly together. Yet something’s missing—your eyes. Actually, come to think of it, your eyes and your eyebrows. Actually, about 50% of your face.
Love at first sight is difficult when you’re wearing fashionable ski goggles.
I Didn’t Learn Anything in Preschool – I tried everything. I pulled your pigtails, I threw mud at you. I called you names. Nothing worked. I pushed you off the swings, I stuck out my tongue, and every day I went home and cried. I wrote you notes, but never passed them.
I wonder if you still wear your hair in braids. I wonder if you still eat sand. I wonder if you still wear purple jellies and could beat me at handball.
I should have just kissed you, but you had lice in your hair.
Too Perfect – You existing makes me want to crawl under a rock. Your beauty undoes everything else – the sun dims and my childhood memories become less idyllic. If only you had a scar or a birthmark, or a metaphoric Achilles heel instead of the one stemming from your perfect calves.
You open your mouth, and I smile at the memory of a backyard tire swing as balance is restored to the world.
Kiss – I love the way you kiss. It’s like the national pastime doesn’t exist, like we’re playing a game that only has one base, and we’re both winning.
I’ve tried to parse it out, figure out the movements and rhythm, but I can’t remember the details. Something about your kiss explodes, erasing the moment itself but leaving a beautiful light in its wake.
Please do not use your powers for evil.
Ugly – When I look in your eyes, I can see children. Not just any children – I can see the possibility of attractive children. You’re gorgeous. So gorgeous that it might overpower my genes, undoing the curse that has plagued my family for centuries.
Then again, it’s nice to know you love me for me.
Jealous – I hide it, but I get jealous. It’s not that I don’t trust you. Your exes, your co-workers, your friends – there are moments where I can’t help but question their intentions. I put myself in their places. I would look at you with me, and say that I’d won the lottery. I’d wonder why on Earth you were with me. I’d see your qualities and see a thin whisp of a man as a barrier. To me, I’d look like a screen door blocking the Federal Reserve.
Perhaps I don’t get jealous. Perhaps I’m just worried for my safety. I’d be more than willing to knock down a screen door to get to you.
Awkward Love – When you’re not here, I can tell a story. I can make men laugh and charm your grandmother. The closer I get to you, the less my words connect.
You block out logic. When you’re around I want to tell you everything at once – I keep my mouth closed, fearing the flood of words will drown us all.
This is why I squeeze back when you hold my hand, or tap one of my fingers while another is wrapped in your belt loop. I’m spelling out words in Morse code, saying in touch what I can’t say in words.
I love you – It snowed this morning. I thought about long underwear, socks, shirts, sweaters, jackets, boots, gloves, hats and scarves. I thought about the walk to the bus, then the underground, then work. Then I looked back and saw you sleeping. I followed your example, and called in sick.
I don’t know how I get any work done with you in my life – I don’t know how I ever leave the house.
Soft – You’re soft. You’re so soft.
I see you every day – every night – but it’s just not enough. When I’m with you, I can’t help but touch you. When we’re apart, I find my thoughts drifting to you when I least expect it.
I bill 2,500 hours each year; 50 hours each week; more than 8 hours a day. And I get paid. But at what cost? My doctor tells me I need to spend more time with you. But I don’t need his advice.
I just need some time in your warm embrace. You’re all I need, my sweet, soft, wonderful pillow.
