Author’s Note:
This letter is written to my daughter, Abigail, but it’s for anyone who wants to understand the quiet power of love that doesn’t leave when it gets hard. The kind that feels like wool socks and coffee—safe, steady, and completely yours.
Dear Abigail,
Today, I’m dreaming about your wedding day.
I fight back tears by swallowing the lump in my throat—because I can’t wait to be there.
Well… I do want you to wait. Please don’t get married at ten. (Giggling.)
I’m excited to see you glow. To watch you stand steady in a love that holds you.
You’re still so young. You don’t even have a favorite flower yet. But I wonder what you’ll choose.
You’ve seen me love plants—because they grow.
You know how stems make me feel: rootless, wilting, like they need anchoring.
But when your time comes, I know you’ll pick what’s yours.
Still, we both know: on that day, the flower won’t matter nearly as much as the person standing beside you.
Right now, I’m in my office, and you’re asleep in the room just above me.
It comforts me to know that the part of my heart that breathes oxygen—you—still sleeps nearby.
But someday, you’ll go.
And when you do—even with tears streaming down my face—I’ll be happy for you.
But before we go there, let’s start here:
What is love?
It’s more than a feeling.
It’s the action (love) that creates the feeling (loved).
It’s strength that endures the waves trying to drown you.
It’s consistency that grounds you when the world tilts.
Here’s what makes it rare and powerful:
You can’t earn it.
You can’t make someone feel it for you.
You can give it.
You can show it.
But you can’t force someone to return it.
The truth is—
Love isn’t a feeling.
It’s a choice the feeling might inspire.
But real love?
It still shows up on the days when the feeling doesn’t.
That feeling you crave? That’s admiration. Respect. Affection.
But it’s only a passenger sometimes.
The real driver? That’s commitment.
And it keeps going—cargo or not.
So what does that mean?
It means love lets you be painfully human—and still believe you’re worthy.
It sees the truth of who you are, and yet… you don’t feel exposed.
You feel known.
The world may see flaws.
Love sees the traits that make you you.
The world says you’re late.
Love says, “You must’ve taken extra time—because wow, you look good.”
The world replays your past.
Love sees a misstep, not a sentence. No stones—just grace.
You hate to cook?
Suddenly—look! It’s love’s new favorite hobby.
The world might call you spoiled.
Love calls you its best investment.
It doesn’t need a bow or the roar of applause.
It’s that safety in wool socks and a cup of coffee.
It lets you walk around like no one’s watching—because it is.
It doesn’t announce its arrival with a megaphone.
It quietly whispers: “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. And I don’t care who sees—or who doesn’t.”
When you try to leave, it guards the door.
Not to control—just to say, I love you.
When it’s disappointed, it doesn’t keep score.
It tries more.
To understand.
To live without expectation.
To avoid bond assassination.
To find the darkness—
sit with you in your shame—
and still love you the same.
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