And…here…we…are! Dodici anni. I begin where I must. You are the light that illuminates my world.

Over the last year, your sacrifices kept us on course when our dream seemed derailed, like so many others in 2020. I suppose I have more to be grateful for than at any point in my lifetime. Not only did you save our necks last year, but you also continued to help save the most vulnerable and fragile of our species, our precious children. The American birthrate has plummeted, and children are needed for our nation to continue to thrive. You are a parent’s angel of hope, and my admiration for you has swelled throughout our relationship. It is now at a point where I realize that I have indeed married far above my station in life. Selflessness assumes an understanding of a larger context. The birthrate is indicative of a nation’s self-confidence and belief in tomorrow; human selflessness is an exceptional indicator of hope.

I thought, for many years, that I was the hopeful one among us. As it turns out, I am far more fragile than I had imagined. At times during all of this madness of pandemic and work stoppage, I thought we might be doomed to a tragic financial fate. The lost sleep and missing appetite were put at rest by you and your willingness to take on an even greater load. Your dedication to others and to the cause of keeping them alive indicates your firm grasp of context. Because of your example, I began to emerge from my funk and began to chase the harmony I believed had eluded us. And I hope you will agree that I have indeed started to capitalize on these opportunities to improve. I think of Churchill and paraphrase him here, if our relationship should last for a hundred years, this, we could say, was our finest hour. I can hope with all of my romantic and manic dreams that this was our most challenging year. And, if not, perhaps we could be spared the craggy rocks of doom for a few more before we find ourselves listing once again. I want so much for us to climb from the shelter of our nightly rituals and allow for the healing of human interaction to wake us from this isolated slumber. 

So, now we go (or will have gone) on our first flight since February 2020. I am sure we are no longer the same weary wanderers that we had become before the world halting. We are quasi-enlightened seekers of experiences but using greater discretion and far fewer bags of money to have them. I know that I am grateful you are still here, and I am still so in love with you. I could never have guessed that anything could hold my interest and continue to show me new layers of life and continue to deepen our union after so many years. Now, I cannot imagine anything more permanent in our human experience than our love for one another. 

So here we are, at twelve years, we have reached that pivotal dozen. But what about the birthrate? Somehow it continues to enter into our daily talks, and our empty spaces resonate with what feels like longing. Is it just me? Should our dance card be more inclusive? I suppose that dance will keep maneuvering, as it tends to do. And I guess the following letter might (although unlikely) shed further light on the subject. I love you, Juliet!

Here we come, world!