try imagining a place where it’s always safe and warm, future wife

Hi, dear.

I like shelter.

Ever since I was a little twerp. We’d dig tunnels in the snow Unidentified former liquids frozen on the tips of our noses. Pausing halfway through to go home to try to warm frozen hands. Tracking snow into the house en route to the mitten basket to grab a dry pair. And when we finished our tunnel excavation, we’d climb in. ALWAYS feet first, in case of collapse or the opening getting covered somehow. I’d just make it big enough for me to fit in. And since I was really young, I was probably only 6’1″. (Kidding. Mostly.) I could stay in there for hours. It was warmer. It was quieter. And I could just watch the snow fall, loving that it wasn’t landing on me. Knowing that hot chocolate was waiting for me at home. Soon. But not yet.

Living right on the Atlantic, as I do, I’ve always loved finding places out of the driving wind. Hills. Walls. The gusts are howling nearby, but they can’t get me. As a teenager, before I got my driver’s license, I knew the calmer shortcuts home. You know, back when kids walked places. Like pimple-faced Jacques Cartiers we could read the winds and know the route to plot. Dressing cool never keeps you warm.

Walking home from classes (and bars) during college. Occasionally looking for shelter from the torrential rains. (Nowadays it would also be shelter from flying bullets.) The one cold rain drop that somehow makes it way through whatever you’re wearing and makes it’s way down your spine. Standing in doorways, wishing for romantic moments, long before I was willing to admit I’m a romantic.

When I watch Survivor Man, my favourite part is always always when he builds the shelter. I study closely the methods he uses, based on the locales. I get stressed when I watch the episode where he built his fire too close to his shelter. Rookie mistake, dude! I half believe that if you drop me off on the plains of south Africa, I could survive for days. Unless I got to the point where I had to drink my own pee. I’d like to avoid that, you know, if at all possible.

My favourite Bob Dylan song is “Shelter From The Storm.”

One of my top 17 or so favourite Rolling Stones songs is “Gimme Shelter.” (What? They have SO MANY awesome songs, future wife!)

I like shelter.

When things get crazy, I want to find someplace where I am safe and secure. Where my back is covered.

I have that with you.

I love that.

I appreciate it so very much.

And I hope you know I’d lop off a toe to keep you sheltered from the storm.


[Read more Future Wife letters.]

photo credit: Helga Weber via photopin cc

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