Dearest Mr. Nielson,
A few things encouraged me to write you a love letter today.
You got home from a fancy three-day business trip this morning,
and I felt the need to write you this letter.
I just missed you so very much, darling.
One night when you were gone, I struggled to fall asleep.
I'd toss and turn in our bed, then unexpectedly,
Lenny Kravitz's song 'It Ain't Over Till It's Over 'came into
my head and wouldn't go away.
You know, that sexy song you sing to me sometimes?
Then I pictured you in a white shirt with your jeans on,
smooching me, and boom, I went to dreamland.
I was so happy to see you tonight when you got home.
Since the kids were in bed when you got in, we let Claire
stay home from school so she could see you, and we all
enjoyed sleeping in (except Ollie, of course) and having breakfast all together.
But then you had to go into the office.
But you better believe when 6:00 came,
what a delightful feeling it was to hear your motorcycle come zooming down
First Place and to our home (where an exhausted wife, me, was anxiously waiting for you).
Your presence was much welcomed.
After hugging each child, you came to me and asked,
"What are the top three things you need right now."
To which I replied:
1. Dinner. (I don't want to do it tonight)
2. Put on you're good listing ears and turn up the volume; I've got a lot on my mind.
(Sadness in the world, homesickness, Mitt Romney,
my ideas about service and motherhood, projects, ideas,
my dang Mac computer frustration, missionary work,
and challenges I am feeling with that, and
the yoga class that I am teaching Tuesday. WHEW).
3. Hold Nicholas for the rest of the evening because since
since 2:00, he has been a crying whirlwind.
On the patience scale, I am about 0%.
Then I asked you if I could have one more thing to add to the list,
and, of course, you said yes, and then I requested something
that I can't type because of its personal nature.
Now together, we put the children to bed, gave each child a warm embrace,
drink of water, and had family prayer.
The wind is blowing outside, and we have the rest of the evening
to do what we like,
and you have on your crisp white shirt and jeans and baby,
'It aint over till it's over.'
