A Love Letter

It's the day after Valentine's, so it's an appropriate time for a love letter, isn't it? As you might suspect, a good part of this one is written to that amazing man I was blessed enough to meet nearly seven years ago, but there's also a piece of my heart reserved for one of our favorite students--ever. J, one of the most talented student artists we've ever encountered, stole our hearts about five years ago when she began painting sets for our shows, and, in spite of the fact that she's now in college and far away from us, she's a part of our lives every day.

The story of this love letter begins with a songwriter by the name of Leonard Cohen. For as long as I've known him, Jeff has loved Cohen, but I was never really able to get on board with the gravelly, bordering-on-off-key voice that Jeff loves so much. As a result, I missed out on the lyrics to Jeff's favorite song--until he put them in a card one holiday early in our relationship. From then on, "Dance Me to the End of Love" became one of my favorite songs.

Fast forward to the day that we had to tell our beloved J that we were leaving New Jersey to move to Virginia. That spring, J--a junior--was in my Shakespeare elective, and she broke down when she learned Jeff and I would be leaving, and we broke down when we realized we'd never again encounter a student quite like her. But J moved beyond her sadness and looked towards our joy, and she told us she wanted to paint us something as her project for the Art Show later that spring. After consulting with us, she determined that we needed an entry table--which we did--and she went to work. Along the way, she asked me what we love most in the world aside from each other, and I offered possibly the most confusing answer to an artist ever: "J, we love theatre, walks in the woods, ballroom dancing, your Georgia O'Keefe-inspired painting--oh, and that Leonard Cohen song!"

To have a student care enough to know you well is a rarity. To have that student love your spouse, too, is even more unusual. And to have a student pour her heart into a piece of art for you and your spouse--well, so far for us, that's once in a lifetime. And that's why we are so blessed every time we walk up the stairs of our little townhouse, because we see this:

In the photo above, you can see so much of Jeff and me: the curtains of a theatre opening to reveal our initial, the words of our favorite song, a piece of J's original O'Keefe-inspired painting we loved so much. But walk up the stairs all the way, and you'll see the top of the table's upper level.

That night in the spring of 2010 when J revealed the finished product to me during her art show, I burst into tears. To receive a love letter (and there is an actual letter on the back of this piece of art, but that's just for me and Jeff) is an overwhelming experience any time--but to receive it from one who knows you so well is beyond compare. J's love letter was in the form of her passion, but it was about our passions--and she is part of our lives every day as we see her work in front of us.

But J's art inspires us to dance to the end of love, "through the panic till I'm gathered safely in." And that's tonight's love letter, part 2. I'll make it short and sweet, because--amazing readers of this blog--you know the panic that's been our reality for the past 13+ months. In every stage of that journey, Jeff has gathered me and safely taken me in. So it will come as no surprise to you--though it was a surprise to me--that I discovered this in my classroom yesterday afternoon when I returned from study hall:

My husband knows me so well that his card stated that he didn't want me to be the only girl at school without flowers (in fact, I was one of the envied few with flowers!) and that he also knew I'd never eat a box of chocolate, so he was including a bag of Pirate's Booty. He didn't make me cry--he made me laugh out loud. After all, what else is there to do in the face of a year full of panic?

Today, my tulips bloomed, and my students ooh-ed and aah-ed over them throughout each class period. I told stories of this man I love so much--of his success last night with his first Code 20 performance and of his love of our little boy-cat, Ozzy. Most of all, though, I just remained grateful for the panic he's seen us through and the strength he offers me as we face tomorrow.

So, J and "Rabbit" (the only name I call Jeff by at home), you are my loves tonight. "Thank you" are words too small and trite for the gifts you've given by opening your hearts to me in return.