i’ll pretend there’s mistletoe all year round, future wife
Happy holidays, love!
I’m sitting here typing this, as snow falls all around, giving the world a bit of a powdered sugar feel, and wondering how your Christmas was.
I hope that it involved family and friends and gifts and too much eating and maybe, just maybe, the tiniest little ache.
My Christmas was great.
I played with my Adorably Cute Niece a lot. I gave and received fun gifts. I stayed up late. I slept in for longer than usual.
But I missed you.
Sometimes I try not to, but I am always saving a spot for you at times like this.
I think about how you might laugh at some of the off-colour comments made or jokes told. I think about how you might laugh even harder when someone in the family screws up a gift. Invariably someone opens ink for a new printer, before opening the printer.
I think about seeing the pictures from the gift-opening later on, and wondering if anyone else noticed the way I was looking at you. If asked, I’ll call it a mixture of smitten and awe.
Even if I’m not asked.
In the midst of the revelry and bonding, as midnight approached and meals digested enough to let us believe that sleep might indeed be a possibility, I decided that I want to spend next Christmas with you.
I was happy. I was content. I was appreciative. I was excited.
And I want to share all of that with you.
I want to whisper to you to watch someone open an extra special gift.
I want to model the new coat I received that makes me look too cute and dashing for this damn town.
I want to tell you that one of my favourite parts of Christmas is seeing those bright LED multi-coloured tree lights reflected in your big, gorgeous eyes. I also want you to initially dismiss it as a writer saying writerly things… until you see the look on my face.
I want to hold your hand. Because I can’t not hold it. And because your squeeze will prove to my doubting mind that this whole thing isn’t some richly-detailed feverish dream.
I want you to open that one present from me that floors you. It makes you wonder how I knew. It makes you wonder if you told me at some point, and even if you did, how did I remember. But mostly it makes you wonder how in the hell I pulled it off.
Then I want you to open the second big gift I bought you because I bought the first gift too early and just really wanted to buy you something else.
Then I want you to open the third gift I bought just because you’re so impossibly cute.
I want to kiss you.
Inside with the decorations. Outside with the snow.
I want to kiss you.
Under the mistletoe. Over and over.
I want you to wonder if I’m going to propose to you. Then I want you to quickly decide that there is no way I would ever make you share your proposal with other festivities. I want you to realize how very excited you are just thinking about it. And I want to see you smile when I ask you what that look is.
I want to spend Christmas with you next year.
Wait. That’s not entirely true.
I need to spend Christmas with you.
We only have so many. And every one I spend without you by my side, no matter how awesome it is, feels like a little bit of a wasted opportunity.
Let’s not waste any more time.
Us being together next Christmas will be all the presents we need.
But I’ll still buy you a bunch more.