It's interesting that something as simple as a letter can bring a smile to your face.
On my never ending quest to get the house ready to go, I came across the stack of letters I'd received from my fiance when he was in basic. They were sitting nice and orderly next to a pile of school work on the floor in my former bedroom. I grabbed them and sat on my parents' ridiculously over sized California King bed and sat there, pouring over them. Reading them in the order they had been sent.
At the time we hadn't been a couple. Just good friends who were obviously attracted to each other, but each of us held back by something (Mostly just stupidity, on my part anyway). To sum it up, I was wasting my time with an Air Force Fag, and he had just gotten out of something with a woman I prefer to refer to as Harpy.
He'd left off to basic in March, on his birthday. I kept giving him my address and made him promise to write me, after all, he wasn't going to be giving my phone seizures anymore with our constant text messaging so how else was I supposed to talk to him? They took his phone when he got there.
I was so anxious to get his first letter, with our line of communication hindered, it felt like something was missing. When I finally did get my first, my father had brought it in and gave me a smile and a hard time over receiving something from him. Apparently it was quite a shocker when we asked his permission on marriage. Harhar Daddy, harhar.
The phone calls that he managed to make my way when he'd finished talking to his family, the letters, the text messages. I'm not sure if it could have been any more obvious. Had I known a year from then that I'd be engaged to that man, it would have made a lot more sense. However, had I known five years ago that we'd be getting married, I'm sure both he and I would have gotten quite a laugh out of it.
There's a fine line between love and hate. And Sometimes you have to do one before you can get the other.