To the love of my life:
When I think about picnics I think about you.
I think about picnics and how last Christmas you gave me a picnic basket just because you know how much I love to head to a quiet, beautiful place where I can read, or get lost in my thoughts or a good conversation with you. And what I love even beyond the fact that you gave that gift to me, is that you just know me that well.
I think about how we take the girls on picnics to Gore and you are so patient and so kind with them. And you laugh and you have fun and you help little one climb trees. And when I see how you are with them it makes my heart warm and I just know that some day you will be an amazing father (even if you claim we will not be having any little girls). I see how they admire you and it makes me so proud to call you mine. With the simple hoist of an eight-year-old into a tree branch just out of her reach I see your patience and your strength and everything that makes you the remarkable man I think you are.
When I think about picnics I think about made-up stories about searching the ends of the earth, to the moon and back, and apples. And I think about the feeling of cool grass between by toes and the smell of fresh dirt and the feeling of love that fills me every time you look at me; all of which renew me and fill me with contentment. I think about hope, and the beauty of the world that God made for us and the undeniable grace of it all.
I think about perseverance and loyalty and how we've helped each other through some of the most difficult times of our lives, both separately and together.
And I think about that picnic basket you gave me.
And I think about all the picnics to come.
And then I think about how very lucky we are.
When I think about picnics, I think about you, love.
I certainly think about you.