"You will only expect a few words - what will those be?
When the heart is full it may run over,
but the real fullness stays within.
Words can never tell you -
however, form them, transform them anyway -
how perfectly dear you are to me
perfectly dear to my heart and soul."
~From Robert Browning to Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 12 September 1846
On Tuesday nights, I get to lead a dinnertime Jewish text study at Hillel.
(Jewish wisdom studied - and continued - by the brightest of students. Amazing.)
Consequently, my very late arrival at our humble abode
occurs as an endcap to David's very long day,
after Asher's bedtime,
and at the end of Rami's rope.
In our family's division of labor,
I am generally in charge
of the food in our bellies
and the prayers on our lips.
So, in my absence, a Tuesday letter is left
alongside a slow-cooker dinner
to remind the men in my life
that these things have not been forgotten.
The content remains mostly the same week after week:
"Hello my loves -
Asher: I hope you had a fun day. Please do not forget to say your Shema. I love you.
Rami: I hope you had a good day. I will be home soon for snuggles and love. Please be good to Abba in the meantime. I love you.
David: Dinner is in the slow cooker. I love you like coffee in the morning (or alternate similie.)"
These letters are written in a bound book,
page after page repetitive from week to week,
not because the instruction is needed
or because my return is uncertain
or because my love for the guys is unknown to them
the part of my heart that waits for them at home
on nights when I do not.
(Check out more letters here.)