On Love: A letter to My Future Mr.

Written: February 18, 2021

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He is a joyful release of air with a left side smirk. He is hazel eyes that turn dark when in the sun and green when he first wakes up. He is a 45 degree angle nose and two Q shaped ears. He is a diet coke after 78 hours without one. He is a handyman. He is a modern-day Lincoln. He is a puff of his chest when the mood is right in the wrong moment. He is an insinuating wink during a Baptism. He is a prayer partner turned partner in crime. He is a heart of gold. He is a clean shot. He is his mother’s eyes and his father’s hairline. He is sure of himself. He is a humble shoulder shrug. He is a sharpened axe against the grain of oak. He is the smell of leather and Phoenix axe body spray. He is warm arms but a cool touch. He is broad shoulders that carry the weight of the world. He is a cup half full and the whole of my heart. He is a bro, but above all, one of the girls. He is my best friend’s dream guy. He is my sister’s secret crush. He is my mom’s greatest joy and my father’s biggest fear. He is my grandmother’s pinwheel fanatic. He is my grandfather’s punching bag. He is my dog’s hero and my cat’s enemy. He is my secret keeper. He is his school’s English scholar. He is his future home’s most exciting adventure, and biggest rascal. He is a goofball and a safety Sam. He is his love for Beagles, but accepts my cat without hesitation. He is allergic to cats. He is unable to consume nuts, but he can handle yours, so says his shotgun initiation tender bio. He is a blue tie. He is the safest place to be. He is home in a person, and a person that makes all feel at home. He is collected under pressure, but aware of this power. He is a cool breeze under a red tent on the quad next to Gorgas on Saturdays. He is a super spiked yellow hammer. He is snow covered mountains, pure and soft. He is a solid exterior with a made to love interior. He is family oriented. He is the hope of a little boy of his own one day, a hunting buddy. He is the blood of his first buck splashed across his adorable, squeezable face. He is cardinal. He is a poppin’ purple penguin. He is a cross bracelet that was never gifted and a broken trampoline. He is a Cheesecake Factory’s burger with tea always. He is underrated by his peers, but understood by his friends. He is a roll tide by birth. He is one part Kappa and one part Pike. He is composed of his past, made of it not for it. He is my MTC. He is my best friend. He is my person. He is my future. He is my soulmate.

I will be his shotgun rider. I will be his drink refresher. I will be his heating pad. I will be his snow day fire stoker and chicken noodle soup connoisseur. I will be his children’s mother. I will be his hand holder. I will be his reason to wash his truck. I will be the reason we’re late to everything. I will be the reason he laughs. I will be the reason his bad days get better, and the good days never leave. I will be his garden tender. I will be his right hand man. I will be his biggest cheerleader. I will be his oatmeal chocolate chip cookie chef. I will be his party thrower, finding reason to celebrate everything. I will be the bubbly to his champagne and the age to his bourbon. I will be his companion. I will be his dog walker and laundry folder. I will be his stolen kisses in the corner trouble maker. I will be his one tequila shot too many headache. I will be his bracelet breaking baddie. I will be his mother’s bittersweet smile when she realizes her son is taken care of. I will be his father’s biggest supporter, because he was our first fan. I will be his best friend’s poker night planner. I will be his chilled beer after a long day. I will be his secret keeper and perfectly timed side wink. I will be his other half, because he is the better part of me. I will be his brown eyes. I will be his wife. I will be his forever.

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Growing up, I just knew I was going to be an archaeologist who discovered a new dinosaur within my first year on site. I later learned paleontologist study dinosaurs, not archaeologists, so my dreams changed slightly.

Eventually, I grew out of the long-term dino-crazed phase and became more realistic: world renowned author. My name would be remembered alongside the greats, William Shakespeare, John Milton, J.K. Rowling.

Though this dream, too, has altered slightly, I find myself less interested in career-based goals, and more focused on family/future oriented aspirations.

Thus, I find myself in this post-Valentine's Day-haze coming to terms with the fact that I am in love and "my" goals have turned to "our" goals.

Just as I knew what my future career endeavors were, I grew up believing I knew who my husband would be, or at least, what he would be like.

Older, for one. Perhaps not a George and Amal Clooney age gap, but certainly of substantial time.

British. Or at least not from Nashville or the surrounding counties. It was time to break that tradition and seek a partner from a new landscape.

Funny. Just kidding, I did get that trait ;)

Truly, I didn't focus much of my daydreams on his appearance or lineage but rather the memories we would make together. The exotic trips to foreign lands, sipping something bubbly and dancing the night away in beautiful attire. Or, more realistically, adventuring around nearby towns to shop and make new faces familiar. And our wedding would be one for the books, adorn with a large wedding party and a reception that would go until the sunrise.

However, just as many moments in my life open my eyes to the necessary shifting of dreams, I find myself understanding the little things I want more than anything provide life's finest moments.

I want him there to drive when I've overindulged on mimosas at brunch with the girls.

I know he'll pick the perfect name for our first dog.

I need his eyes to look into as we dance around the kitchen with the doors and windows flung open as the mid-summer rain drizzles down outside.

It's not the big moments that make me smile. Yes, obviously a girl dreams about who will be at the end of the isle when she walks down it to "Here Comes the Bride". Or who will hold her hand as she makes the final push to bring their first born into the world, and consequentially take his namesake should it be a boy. But I find myself drifting off in a whimsical daydream about things grander, in my eyes.

The post-holiday crash, where the last thing your body wants to endure is taking down the Christmas decorations, but your husband greets you with a cup of coffee and a motivated smile early one morning, and you rush to pack it up before the kids come crying saying not to remove their favorite ornaments just yet, I think of him.

When its Sunday afternoon and we have nothing in the pantry so we run to Publix and load the cart up with all the necessities, I think of him.

After the kids go to bed, and we curl up on the couch fully intending to finally finish that one movie, but pass out before the halfway mark, it's him whose arms surround me, in this hopefully not too far fetched fantasy.

It's him.

And no, it wasn't always him. In fact I thought the farthest from that. He was a friend, and good one at that. Then he was my best friend. Suddenly one day, he was my soul mate. The man of my dreams.

Despite challenges life has and will throw at us, I pray it's him at the end. And not just the isle, but I pray he's the guy I send off in the morning with the kids in tow. I smile at the thought of his can-do attitude while putting together a crib that came in far too many pieces to ever see the light of day in full form. I pray that one day, when the wrinkles are deep and the hair grey, he's the man I lean my head against and watch the sunset with.

God, please let it be him.

So, to my maybe Mr, if you ever read this, I can't wait for these big events, but even more my heart smiles at the though of all of the little moments in between.