Dear Bee,
Your grace is inhuman. Your mercy and understanding are not of this world. When you tell me you love me, really love me, while looking into imperfect eyes, I must catch myself not to think you yourself are perfect. But my God, aren't you close? I can see the compassion he has etched into the very tissue of your heart and the wisdom that is grooved along your mind. You are my greatest gift and I do not deserve you. But like grace, you come regardless. Love is an inadequate word in this language to describe what I feel for you. It's why these letters have been sparse lately. My tongue can't manufacture more praise without sounding idolatrous or repetitive. But please know that you are my one. You are the definition of beauty in my mind. And I adore you.
Love,
Hubs
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