31. A Letter to My Future Husband

How are you? I hope you're doing well. Maybe you're singing right now, or at work, or in an airplane. I wonder what your taste in music is like, and what movies you like to watch, and how shaken you are by turbulence. Perhaps I'll find out soon; or maybe not for ten years.
      I've pictured you a hundred different ways, but maybe they're all wrong. Maybe we've seen each other and I just haven't known it. Maybe you're with someone else right now; I really and truly hope you're enjoying it. I might've held the door open for you, or sat beside you in class, or brushed past you at the mall. But then again, perhaps we've never met.
       In that case, I'll tell you a little bit about me. You don't need to know a whole lot, because I'm sure I'll have told you the rest. I don't really know what I want right now; I'm not sure what I want to major in, or who I want to be, or where I want to work, or even exactly what I want to do with my room. I'm trying to learn as much about myself and the world as I can. All I know is that I'm happy right now, and I want to keep being happy, even if — or perhaps, especially if it means changing things that aren't working.
      Like I said, I'm not sure exactly who I want to be or who I will be, but I do have some hopes for you. I don't care so much about where you're from, or what your accent is like, or what your last name is. But I hope you're intelligent — maybe you've read more books than I have, or watched a million documentaries, or lived a life entirely different to mine; in any case, I'd like to learn something from you. I hope you're whole, so we can be two wholes rather than two halves; maybe you're not there yet, but I believe you're working on it, and so am I. I hope you're passionate and hardworking; I hate when people do things halfheartedly. I hope my family likes you; I want my brothers and best friends to like hanging out with you, and for my parents know you're a good guy. Most of all though, I hope you're kind. I hope you're empathetic. I hope you understand other people's stories even when you can't relate. I hope you're good to people; even when they're not good to you. I hope you know when you're wrong and say sorry when you are. I hope you hold doors open and thank the waiter. I hope you give charity and stand up for what's right. I hope you're compassionate. I hope you love deeply and infinitely, at the basic human level and beyond. I hope you have faith and pass it along to others, too. I hope you're gentle with me, and just as much so with yourself.
   Wherever and whoever you are, I love you.