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Writing
The Journal's love letter contest winner:
Robert, My Dearest Love,
When I transplanted my life five years ago, moving across the country to join you, I was full of anticipation yet nervous as well. My faith in our love led me to come plant an acorn of hope in the high desert yet I feared the seed would not grow in such arid soil; I missed the lush green valleys of my birthplace. But you never expressed such doubts and almost immediately a green sprout poked up among the lava rocks and tumbleweed.
Our sprouting affections soon grew into a resilient sapling of commitment. Though periodically rocked in winds of dispute, it would quickly spring back upright. At times I feared the storms would snap it in two but I hadn't counted on the determined strength of fresh, green, living love. Every time it bowed beneath us it became stronger and grew faster until nothing we could do would bend it again. We never quit disagreeing about little things; we just put more love into those conflicts each time. Our compromises and yieldings led the sapling of our love to grow into a powerful, solid oak.
And now, on this Valentine's Day, three years into a new millenium and five years into our new life, I stand beneath the sheltering shade of our steadfast love, looking out across a valley so full of life, wondering how I could have ever thought the desert to be barren. Our strong branches have softened the blows of illness and job loss and all the various hails and sleets the world can heap upon a couple. Our deep roots tap into a secret source of nourishment, not always visible to those who have not tended this tree. And I can take the sturdy roughness of our towering trunk in my arms and know that I am holding something solid, something real, something far greater than you or me alone.
This tree will not wither, it will not fall in a mere storm, flames will not singe it and no hand can sever its growth. I look forward to many years of tiny green blossoms, leaves stretching towards the sun and acorns of new life tumbling from its highest branches.
Your Valentine, Today and Always,
Sparrow