i'll cry at the silly things. and i won't always say the right thing. half the time i won't actually say anything at all--chalk it up to my irish-catholic roots--and you'll have no idea what i'm thinking or feeling. but i'll work on this.
i'll dance around the house in just my socks and underwear. a lot. and i'll expect you to join in. i'll always play in the snow. snow fights. snow angels. i'll want to wake up in the middle of the night--the silent night--when the snow is untouched. and i'll pretend that we--just the two of us--make up the whole of the world. i'll sing in the shower and that's how you'll know i'm happy. i'll dust and vacuum and i'll chuckle at your dirty socks under the bed. but when i ask you to pick them up i'll expect you to do it. and i'll hope for surprises. silly ones. little ones. or flowers.
for at least a little while, our kids will be raised in Montclair. it's where my parents started out. and it's where i spent summers. i have roots there. we'll ride our bikes and make friends with the neighbors. the kids will play soccer and sign up for little league. and they will be safe. the schools are good. and we'll be happy.
and maybe we'll live in Europe. for a time. on a cobble stone street amidst a thousand years of history. and we'll make our own history. and we'll make our own roots.
and we'll go skiing and always make time for the other's in-laws. and we'll exchange homemade gifts and start silly traditions. i love silly traditions. and if you'd let me i'd marry you in the rain. just so long as i could see your eyes.
i'll never be the perfect wife. the put-together wife. i'll listen to corny music and watch too much t.v. and i'll eat too many m&ms. and i won't cook well. i probably won't cook at all. i'll need you for that. i'll make a mean salad and help the kids make jello, but you'll have to make the cupcakes for the school bakesale.
oh, and i have smelly feet. and sometimes i wake up at night with a charlie's horse. and i'll always want to play charades. and when we go to the beach i won't tan. i'll cover myself in spf 50 and a long t-shirt. but that won't stop me from spending all afternoon bobbing along with the waves or attempting to surf. i'll fall off every time but laugh all the while.
and sometimes i'll want to go to the arcade to play air hockey and foosball. while other times i'll stay up all night playing video games.
but at Christmas time i'll need you to drive around the suburbs with me just to see all the lights. and watch it's a wonderful life and the sound of music. and kiss me like it's the first time.
just so you know.
image stolen from Ned Frisk phtography/Corbis (a la google image search)