~~Dear, Mr. Liverpool,
1. ¬†¬†¬†I love
that you see me.
You know, ¬†without
makeup.¬† Hideous and Stinky. ¬†Hair piled unwashed and uncombed.¬† ¬†Me.¬† The unpainted version of me. The real me. ¬†The muted me‚Ä¶.. & still,¬† you love.
2.¬†¬†¬† I love your British accent wrapping around
me like the 4 Beatles.
3.¬†¬†¬†¬† I love that you pretend to get pleasure from
burnt bacon on Saturday mornings.
4.¬†¬†¬†¬† I love that when I burst into tears
mid-sentence because of Kay‚Äôs murder, you gaze at me with tender, knowing, sugary
5.¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† I love that you read every. single. blog.
And even though you discipline me sometimes for my sweltering,
spontaneous, straightforward tone, you never judge ¬†me.¬† Never.
6.¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† I love that you support my ‚ÄúWriting‚ÄĚ
7.¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† I love that you‚Äôve attended each one of
my poetry readings, poetry recitals, & domestic violence causes. ¬†¬†Always, without question.¬† I see you sitting there smiling.
8.¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† I love that you never leave the table
without saying ‚Äúthank you‚ÄĚ for your meal‚Ä¶even¬†when it’s¬†overcooked,
undercooked, & shockingly, charcoaly ¬†appalling.
Is that a British trait, mate?
9.¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† I love that after all of these years, even when I’ve asked, you‚Äôve
never told me my ass was big.
You are an exceptionally intelligent man.
10.¬†¬†¬†¬† I love that you love me.
In spite of everything,
In spite of everything.
-The first song we danced to in Mexico.¬† ¬†Remember, dear? ¬†¬† You couldn’t keep your hands off of me