Letters to: Danny

I quite like this format of writing little letters to my surroundings. As someone who struggles to tap into her emotions on a face-to-face level, this feels like a stress-free method of showing my appreciation. It’s strange isn’t it, how even the shyest of us find ourselves turning to the side to face the audience and voicing our soliloquys as if our fellow actors and recipient of our words can’t hear. Like you’re cupping the side of your mouth with your hand; it’s easier to say these words to a screen, through a keyboard, rather than to a face, with your voice. Let’s call it the modern interpretation of old-fashioned love letters, pouring out your heart onto the length of a piece of paper to give these captured feelings a sense of permanence. Is the verbal format not convincing enough anymore, or long-lasting? Do I need validation from outsiders that my relationship is at the very least, adequately staged? I hope not! I genuinely just want to share how much I appreciate various aspects of my life, as I don’t feel like I do it enough. I want to pick out these moments of happiness and lay them out on a crisp white bedsheet. This is a format that I find comfortable to work with. So if you can bear this level of schmaltz, then here are a few letters to a man I’ve known for four years.

Dear Danny,

First things first, thank you for letting me stay over many years ago when I drank half a bottle of JD at your flat and passed out on the sofa. Shall we have another round of the Game of Thrones drinking game for old times’ sake?

The bounding. Every now and then when I’m getting on with studying and stressing a little, you will bound into the room and give me a kiss, joyfully announce “STUDY KISSES!” then bounce out of the room and back to your business. You are a happy kangaroo, and it’s genuinely the sweetest little thing. People introduced you to me as a grumpy sort of fellow…I’m definitely getting more of a Tigger vibe.

Your nest. For messy folk like ourselves, our sofa nests usually reveal a lot about our characters. Your nest tends to consist of: Several blankets, including a Deadpool one and a Broncos one, your tablet, your Xbox controller, two pillows, a comic book, many crumbs, a few coffee-stained mugs, often a miniature sword, and a salt and pepper shaker.

The Gaming Face. I tell you it’s adorable, you do not accept it. It starts off kind of soft and mildly concentrated, then you start to bite your lip intently, then once you assemble yourself cross-legged and leaned forward, then it is ON, and the mouth opens in mesmerised determination.

Surprises. I can’t count the number of times you’ve surprised me with something incredibly thoughtful. When I ask you why you’re so bloody lovely, you usually shrug and simply say “I’m not, I just want to do these things. Everyone should want to do these kind of things for people.”

The little brown fleck in your eye. I do suspect it’s the source of all your powers. In the Summer, it looks orange on a clear day. With your long hair and slender figure, there is definitely a touch of Elven in your bloodstream.

Puzzles. A natural problem-solver, it’s bloody brilliant to watch the cogs whirring behind your eyes as you get stuck into something tricky.  I believe you can do anything, and it’s so comforting to see you draw energy from these accomplishments.

I am overwhelmed by your constant support. I don’t expect it, or anticipate it, it just happens, and  you never make it seem like a chore to do. Thank you for organising all of our bills and outgoings, and for finding us our new home, and for picking up extra shifts for me at work when I’m struggling for cash. Thank you for making me smile even when I’m at my most anxious and strained (it’s a lot.) You listen to my nonsensical rants and offer solutions no matter how ridiculous I’m being, or breathless I become. I feel like you’re this wonderful solid mass that props me up when I’m slipping on a sheet of ice, and I appreciate it so damn much, I really hope you know that.

 

Your Rosie

x

(AND YOUR SKIN IS ALL SOFT AND FUZZY LIKE A PEACH ESPECIALLY YOUR BUTT THE END.)

 

 

Letters to: Our New Home

Recently we moved house, and it is by far the cutest little situation we’ve been in. Here are some letters I have written to various objects now that the ‘settling in’ period has passed, and we are in full-swing dwelling mode. The dullities of your every day life sometimes need appreciation too.

Dear Kitchen Windowsill,

You are the shape of an arrowhead and harbour the rusty brass solar system (and a bunch of daffodils) with such class. I want to cool pies on you in the summer, would that be okay?

..

Dear Yellow Paint Splashes on the Blinds Upstairs,

Thank you for making me feel less mortified about dying a small portion of the bathroom floor red after dying my hair. But I will honestly try to treat you less like a paint palette in the future.

Dear Purple Flowers That Have Popped Up Rather Suddenly in Our Mini-Garden

Hello!!! You are the loveliest things to step outside to on the morning. The rate of your growth is miraculous, keep on bloomin’.

Dear “New Home” Cards on the Fireplace

Can we leave you up forever? You make me so happy. Yep, okay!

Dear Washing Machine

I still cannot believe that you can be programmed to come on just before I wake up, and in a mere 30 minute wash you can blitz away all manner of food encrustment on our clothing! You BABE.

Dear Lock on the Bathroom Door

You don’t work very well, but that’s okay. We all have our shortcomings, and sometimes the one purpose we assign to ourselves is the one that we struggle with the most.

Dear Combi Boiler

I think we may have finally figured you out, and after the initial week or so without hot water, I want to give you a hug every time I see your little flame ignite.

Dear Back Garden

You exist!! Our very first garden! I have such plans, SUCH PLANS, including acquiring deck chairs and sitting in you with a cider and a book on fresh spring days, or doing gentle yoga with candles in summer evenings. Nice to meet you!

(and finally)

Dear Congregation of Cats That Live In Our Cul-de-Sac

You like to sit on our drive as we come home from work, and stare at us with the unnervingly placid air of a mafia boss about to dispense severe judgement. One of these days I half-expect to see one of you slowly pull a gun out on us. How can we earn your respect? Let us know.

 

(End)

Rosie

x