One morning, while tackling the clutter in the bedroom closet before holiday packing, I discovered a mystery box. The box was small and white and buried beneath two other unused bags. Surprisingly, the weight of the impractical insurance-issued (a.k.a. non-rechargeable battery) breast pump from five years ago and a box of old maternity clothes had not crushed it.
I wondered what was in it. The box was unmarked and about the size of an eight-by-eight-inch brownie pan. Baking was definitely on my brain with Christmas parties in full swing and travel ahead just days away.
My 18-month-old son Titus was overjoyed to discover the box with me. He was more excited, though, about a larger red box beside it. We took both down from the shelf, and as I played music, he promptly dumped the contents from the larger one, sat inside, and started to explore its contents.
To the festive soundtrack of Pentatonix tunes, Titus smiled as he began to take little trinkets and papers out. As I opened the smaller box, full of memorabilia from my hall director days, I was surprised to also find a love letter. After several moves in our early days as a family, many things were lost. On top of that, my annual purge usually results in large donations or one memorable trip to the landfill. Clutter still accumulates between the four of us, and there’s no way we have room for every Birthday card, gift, or item that is gifted to us.
I was happy to see several cards from loved ones that had passed and other treasured memories in a slim binder. But this particular envelope caught my eye. It was unmarked. Upon opening, I realized the letter was from my (now) husband, Joshua. Based on the words used (prometido) which means fiancé, Joshua had written it me while we were engaged. Settling back against the dusty boots behind me, my mind traveled years into the past.
Boy, were we crazy about each other! The letter talked about missing me and dreaming of the day we would never say “goodbye” but instead “goodnight” every night. Despite me putting on the brakes and friend-zoning him early on, Joshua won me over with his earnest friendship. I was surprised how quickly my feelings changed after hearing a voice that I took as the spirit telling me he was “the one.”
We used to talk on the phone for an hour or more every night because we would miss each other. Though we lived seven minutes apart, we were inseparable. We also used to write letters and cards or cute little Post-it notes of encouragement and things like that throughout the workweek.
A little less than a year after our wedding, we became pregnant with our first child and all that comes with that. If you read my other pieces, you’ll know the road has been a little rocky for us. There was terrible postpartum rage and anxiety for me, a likely related detox stint for him, marriage counseling, and an ADHD diagnosis that finally helped us learn why things just seemed so difficult for our family.
In the chaos of parenting, especially during the holidays, it’s easy to lose sight of each other. We hadn’t had a date night in over a month, and some medical challenges for one of our children had me so badly on edge that the disconnect felt like a chasm. Finding this letter felt like a miracle. Hearing again of the hopes and dreams that my husband had for us reminded me again of our early love and why we are even in this together at all.
Titus got hungry, and then it was time to pick up our kindergartner, Blake, and the rest of the day’s events took over.
Later that night, Joshua was frustrated from hearing disappointing news and went to bed early. Frustrated that he hadn’t read Blake’s assigned easy reader book with him, I couldn’t help but make a comment about the importance of literacy as I shut the door and mentally added the book to our nighttime list. One of my gifts, unfortunately, is snarky comments and trying to get the last word in an argument. It’s a charming feature that those with ADHD especially excel at, and it’s one I’m just beginning to learn to manage.
Contrasted with the letter, a time capsule of hope and infatuation, our tone is often so different today. The monotony of daily life has a way of crushing that blood-racing, soul-aching longing for one another from the early dating and engagement years.
Later that night, while our oldest was asleep and the youngest continued working off his last burst of energy, I realized what I should do. I got out my calligraphy pen instead of a Crayola marker or random pencil sitting around. This time, I was going to capture that old feeling. I would write a love letter once more.
After pouring my heart into this letter, I texted our dear friend and babysitter to ask her if, somehow, in this crazy holiday season, she was free in two days to babysit on a Friday night.
The old letter rekindled the former feelings of passion, and the newer letter soothed the ache of parental exhaustion combined with snark.
Who knew cleaning out a closet could bring just the holiday spark we needed?
This is so beautiful! Written from the heart.