Example 1: From his wife, 20th anniversary, romantic, about one page
418 words
My dearest Gabe,
Twenty years. I keep saying the number out loud, and it still surprises me.
I think about the night we met, at my cousin's quinceañera in San Antonio. We were both nineteen. You asked me to dance, and within ten seconds you stepped on my foot. Then you apologized in Spanish so formal, so careful, that I laughed through the whole song. You didn't seem to mind. I should have known right then that I was in trouble.
I knew for sure the year you drove six hours to bring me caldo when I had the flu. You didn't make a speech about it. You just showed up with a warm pot and sat with me. That is how you have loved me ever since. You are a quiet man, and you say it by doing.
You have never missed one of our kids' games or recitals. Not once in twenty years. Some nights you came straight from a twelve-hour shift at the plant, still tired, and you clapped louder than anyone. You still open my car door, too. I hope you never stop.
I love the small things most. The coffee you make every morning and leave on the counter with the handle turned toward my side. The way you whistle while you fix things in the garage. The way you call me "mi reina" when you think the kids can't hear. They can hear, you know. I think they like it.
I will never forget Puerto Vallarta, when the rain caught us and we danced in the street outside a restaurant that had already closed. I will never forget the night Sofia was born, when you held her, cried, and told her she has my stubborn chin.
And I will never forget when my mother died. You took over everything for months without being asked. The cooking, the kids' schedules, the bills. And you sat up with me every night until I could sleep. I don't know how to thank you for that, so I'll just say it plainly. I felt held.
Now the kids are in college, and the house is quieter. I am looking forward to slow Saturday mornings with just you. And I am looking forward to Spain, finally, the trip we have talked about since our honeymoon.
Maybe we can dance there, too. I promise to watch my feet. I'm not worried about yours anymore.
Contigo en la distancia, and contigo right here beside me.
Tu reina, siempre.
Rosa
What the writer told Toastful to get this letter
- Writer
- Rosa, to my husband
- How Met
- We met at my cousin's quinceañera in San Antonio when we were both 19. Gabriel asked me to dance, stepped on my foot within ten seconds, and apologized in Spanish so formal that I laughed through the whole song. I knew when he drove six hours to bring me caldo when I had the flu my sophomore year of college.
- What You Love
- He's a quiet man who shows love by doing. In twenty years he has never missed one of our kids' games or recitals, even when it meant driving straight there from a twelve-hour shift at the plant. He still opens my car door.
- Little Things
- He makes my coffee every morning and leaves it on the counter with the handle turned toward my side. He still calls me 'mi reina' when he thinks the kids can't hear. He whistles while he fixes things in the garage.
- Memories
- Our honeymoon in Puerto Vallarta, when we got caught in a rainstorm and danced in the street outside a restaurant that had already closed. And the night our daughter Sofia was born, when he held her, cried, and said, 'She has your stubborn chin.'
- Support
- When my mother died eight years ago, he took over everything at home for months: the cooking, the kids' schedules, the bills, without being asked. He sat up with me every night until I could sleep.
- Looking ahead
- Both kids are in college now. I'm looking forward to the trip to Spain we've talked about since our honeymoon, and to slow Saturday mornings with just the two of us again.
- Extras
- I call him Gabe. Our song is 'Contigo en la Distancia.' Sign off: 'Tu reina, siempre. Rosa.'