Plant something that deserves to live and let it grow. I will adore your farmer’s tan and all that it signifies. Plant something beautiful in my heart. I think alfalfa is beautiful.
Some days the Ice Queen will return, blackening the earth at my feet. She will breathe frost onto all the buds you so delicately brought to life. Remind me that God doesn’t care where I’ve been, only where I’m going. It’s a cliché. But it’s enough warmth to lull the Ice Queen back to slumber.
Take your shoes off for me so I don’t have to barefoot trudge my way into that church alone. Make a burning bush of me. I will put the fire out with my tears. Rebuild, rebuild, rebuild until I understand.
Acknowledge my faults. No matter how true your love, I will never wish to be labeled perfect. Let my faults be the map and I will bring a book for cross-country hours. I will let that engine hum.
Do dishes with me after dinner. With suds up to your elbows, tell me stories I’ve heard before. As I dry each porcelain plate, each pan or fork or spoon, I will let your stories wash over me tingling with new. I just want to be by you.
Never offer me the moon. They renamed me Saturn so I will remember the way they pushed so many moons into my orbit (60 moons and counting). I never asked for this. Wipe the slate of all their empty promises. Leave me naked for a time so the universe can rebuild my magnetism slowly.
Instead of so many moons, offer me something tangible. When I am a hundred miles out of earshot, say “I’d sell my truck for her.” I want to feel the truth of it echo through my bones and shiver electric out my fingers.
Love me like that.