stood up with me out of the recliner with my legs wrapped around your waist. As you wrapped the blanket around me, you kissed me like you never kissed me before. For just a moment, you released our kiss. “I love you, Larkin. Let me take you to a place you have never been before.” And as you kissed me again, you carried me into the house and up the stairs to our bedroom where we made love for the first time.
I took notice of the gentle way you had taken care not to hurt my fragile body, and you never took your eyes away from mine. I let you take me to that place that you had promised, and you took my breath away, and you made me feel like a woman. I suddenly knew at that moment that you are my heaven, and I was in awe of this beautiful angel that had placed his body on top of mine. You are strong and masculine, but you took care of me the way a man should take care of a woman he loves. After I caught my breath, I raised my hand up to your face, brushing your flushed cheekbone before I outlined your lips with the tip of my finger.
“Take me there again,” I pleaded with you. As the sun set and the moon took its place, as the stars gave cover to the chilly March evening, throughout the night, you and I repeatedly became as close as a man and a woman can become. And just before the sun rose the next morning, you watched as I let myself go to that magical place that you had taken me so many times that night, a place that you too had gone with me. As I returned back to you, out of breath, you caressed my forehead with your hand, your brown eyes staring into mine. You gently kissed my nose, and you decided to give all of yourself to me at that moment.
“Marry me, Larkin,” you whispered.
Letter #17 - March 10, 2012
Hey, Fish,
It has been the typical morning that we have become accustomed to. You on your daily fishing trip and me typing away on my manuscript. But it isn’t typical, really. We had shared a magical night together, a night that strengthened and solidified what we have meant to each other, and from this morning forward, our lives will never be the same. I have a feeling of excitement for the first time in a long time. For the first time since I have gotten sick, I have a powerful sense of optimism. There is something inside of me that you have set off that has made me feel stronger than ever. But I have to admit to you that I am also a little worried. Worried that maybe you didn’t mean what you had said when you asked me to marry you. I never really did give you an answer. I just kissed you like I had never kissed you before right after you said it. Even though I didn’t acknowledge your impulsive proposal, I certainly haven’t forgotten it. I just hope that you meant it and that you weren’t caught up in the moment. But I am nervous. I’m not even sure if I would be doing right by you to marry you. You deserve a lifetime of love, and I cannot promise you that.
I am writing you a second letter today because I need to find a way to cope with what happened after you got back today. I know you told me I have nothing to worry about, but you know me. After you got back from your fishing trip, we sat over a cup of coffee before you went to the shower. Neither of us mentioned what happened last night. Although it was the best night of my life, I am scared that maybe you have some regrets. It is so hard for me not to talk to you about it and find out how you are feeling about what happened and most importantly about what you asked me, but I have decided that I am going to give you your space and let you come to me about it. I am not going to push you.
I decided that I would try to let my mind escape from these thoughts by delving into a novel as you showered and got cleaned up. My mind, half-focused on the novel and half-focused on last night, was unexpectedly interrupted by a knock on our door. I know that I wasn’t expecting anyone and you hadn’t mentioned that you were, so I figured it was a
I took notice of the gentle way you had taken care not to hurt my fragile body, and you never took your eyes away from mine. I let you take me to that place that you had promised, and you took my breath away, and you made me feel like a woman. I suddenly knew at that moment that you are my heaven, and I was in awe of this beautiful angel that had placed his body on top of mine. You are strong and masculine, but you took care of me the way a man should take care of a woman he loves. After I caught my breath, I raised my hand up to your face, brushing your flushed cheekbone before I outlined your lips with the tip of my finger.
“Take me there again,” I pleaded with you. As the sun set and the moon took its place, as the stars gave cover to the chilly March evening, throughout the night, you and I repeatedly became as close as a man and a woman can become. And just before the sun rose the next morning, you watched as I let myself go to that magical place that you had taken me so many times that night, a place that you too had gone with me. As I returned back to you, out of breath, you caressed my forehead with your hand, your brown eyes staring into mine. You gently kissed my nose, and you decided to give all of yourself to me at that moment.
“Marry me, Larkin,” you whispered.
Letter #17 - March 10, 2012
Hey, Fish,
It has been the typical morning that we have become accustomed to. You on your daily fishing trip and me typing away on my manuscript. But it isn’t typical, really. We had shared a magical night together, a night that strengthened and solidified what we have meant to each other, and from this morning forward, our lives will never be the same. I have a feeling of excitement for the first time in a long time. For the first time since I have gotten sick, I have a powerful sense of optimism. There is something inside of me that you have set off that has made me feel stronger than ever. But I have to admit to you that I am also a little worried. Worried that maybe you didn’t mean what you had said when you asked me to marry you. I never really did give you an answer. I just kissed you like I had never kissed you before right after you said it. Even though I didn’t acknowledge your impulsive proposal, I certainly haven’t forgotten it. I just hope that you meant it and that you weren’t caught up in the moment. But I am nervous. I’m not even sure if I would be doing right by you to marry you. You deserve a lifetime of love, and I cannot promise you that.
I am writing you a second letter today because I need to find a way to cope with what happened after you got back today. I know you told me I have nothing to worry about, but you know me. After you got back from your fishing trip, we sat over a cup of coffee before you went to the shower. Neither of us mentioned what happened last night. Although it was the best night of my life, I am scared that maybe you have some regrets. It is so hard for me not to talk to you about it and find out how you are feeling about what happened and most importantly about what you asked me, but I have decided that I am going to give you your space and let you come to me about it. I am not going to push you.
I decided that I would try to let my mind escape from these thoughts by delving into a novel as you showered and got cleaned up. My mind, half-focused on the novel and half-focused on last night, was unexpectedly interrupted by a knock on our door. I know that I wasn’t expecting anyone and you hadn’t mentioned that you were, so I figured it was a
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