I spent a good chunk of time on Saturday afternoon searching for the right thing to say. As I fed the paper through the old machine I ran my fingers over the rusting keys. I briefly pondered the rest of the people that stood here today expressing their sentiments with these iron keys attached to this archaic instrument. Did they send love to significant others, or parents? Did they choose words of their own or romantic poems? Is it real? Is, it ever real? Are our hearts really capable of genuine love?
I think so.
It took me a couple tries to get it just right. I started over twice after missing keys and misspelling important words, but after a couple tries I finally found a good rhythm, a click-click cadence. I matched the not so graceful sound of the keys striking the paper ever so intentionally and I began my note with a poem, one of my favorites. It seems like it expresses what I feel much better than I could ever articulate. …to the depth and breadth and height… No one talks like that anymore but I wish they did. Those words deeply resonate with how I love Him and how I’m learning to love you. I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears of all my life!
You’ll get the note today, this love on the run. Someone from my favorite little homemade paper shop will deliver it to your desk and you’ll read the words and be moved because you’re the romantic type. You’ll unquestionably like the poem because you know what it means to me but I reckon you’ll like the last line the best. After I finished typing the poem I only had one line left. One line to sum up how I feel in my own letter pressed love. Thankful to be yours… Yeah, that’s about right.