157

To my love. Another month for us. Happy anniversary. I love you, and I'm grateful you are understanding while it feels like I'm being inflated with stress every minute between now and launch. Thank you for being by my side. Thank you for understanding. I'm lucky to be with you.

156

Today, 13 years ago, we were married. I love you. I hope I always make you happy. I hope I am always worthy of you. I hope I make you laugh. I hope I keep you warm in flesh and in heart. You make me want to be a better person, and through the years I have known you (18 by my count), I have stood and soared because of you.

Tonight, a dinner, a movie. You and I together, me always pushing to be better, to be the person you deserve.

I love you.

155

As you sleep in our bed with our cats, I thought I would take this time to write that I love you. Thank you for being strong with me over the past couple of weeks. It strengthens me to know you'll be there. My biggest fear is that you'll leave, you'll run, you'll abandon. I love you, and I am humble and grateful you were so compassionate.

Next month, our 13th anniversary. I know you want a new couch, but there has to be something more romantic I can scheme up.

154

I love you.  And I know you don't like it when I say things like this, sounding negative and such, but I wish I was a better person. I wish you never saw my stress or indecision, or worry or anger. I wish I never gave you a bad moment. I love you, and I want every moment to be happy and magical.

I love you.

153

To my love.

I miss you. Being down in California for week, away from you and our happy home, ebbs me in a way I try not to mention when we talk. I get glimpses of what my solitary life would be like without you. I'm encased in a studio apartment in my hotel while I'm down here for two weeks working. It feels more like a stuffy box wrapped in a simulation of comfortable living. Everything is me, and there's a void where you used to be. I never want that eroded or filled up. I want to be with you. Being alone is not the same as being lonely, but when I eventually think of you, there's a blankness, a psychic hole that sinks me into longing.

I miss you. This has been the longest time we've been appear since you traveled to Germany years ago. I felt adrift during that time then, and I recall that floating, pale sensation now, wrapping itself around my chest and throat.

Saturday. Home Saturday. Home with you and the cats. Soon, in the distance, it's coming.

I love you.