In the quiet moments

14th February 1837

My Dearest Love,

You will expect words from me, and yet, how inadequate they seem in the face of all I feel. How does one distill the depth of devotion, the trembling joy, the quiet longing, into mere ink upon paper? If I were a poet, I would weave you a tapestry of verses, each line shimmering with the light of my affection. If I were a painter, I would capture your essence in colors so rich, so divine, that no earthly frame could contain their brilliance. But I am neither. I am simply a man, wholly and irrevocably yours, struggling to find words that might reflect the fervor of my heart.

I write to you in the solitude of the evening, the candlelight casting long shadows upon these pages, flickering like the unsteady rhythm of my pulse when I think of you. The air is still, save for the distant murmuring of the wind through the trees, and I find myself longing, aching to be where you are, to hear your laughter not in memory, but in the space beside me.

Do you remember the last time we parted? The weight of your hand in mine, the way your eyes held a sorrow I could not bear to see? I carried that moment with me, what I would give now to to feel your hand not as a phantom in my dreams, but warm and real within my grasp.I think of you constantly when the morning sun spills golden light through my window, I wonder if it kisses your face with the same tenderness I wish to. When the evening hushes the world into a gentle lull, I wonder if your thoughts ever drift to me, if your heart beats in time with mine across the distance.

Do you know, my love, how wholly you have claimed me? I am no longer my own, nor do I wish to be. If I could walk a thousand miles to be by your side, I would count each step as a blessing. If the heavens demanded I trade all that I possess for just one hour in your presence, I would surrender it without hesitation. There is no treasure, no earthly delight, no triumph that could compare to the sweetness of your voice, the radiance of your smile, the quiet understanding in your eyes that sees me as no other ever has.

You once asked me if I regret this love, and if given the chance, would I turn away, guard my heart more fiercely, resist the pull that drew me helplessly, inexorably toward you. My answer remains let me be the most foolish man to have ever lived, for I would choose this love a thousand times over. There is no regret in my heart only the ache of longing, the boundless gratitude that I have known you, that I have loved you, that you have, in some miraculous way, loved me in return.

I look back upon our every moment together and find not a single word, not a single glance that I would wish to alter. Every whispered promise, every touch, every silence between us has been perfect in its own way. And yet, my heart, insatiable in its devotion, yearns for more. More time, more laughter, more stolen moments in which the world fades away and there is only you and I, bound together in a love that neither time nor circumstance could diminish.

I find myself envying the ink upon this page, for it will reach you before I can. These words will rest in your hands, traced by your fingers, held close perhaps in the quiet hours of the night. If I could, I would press myself into the very fabric of this letter, so that when you read it, you would feel it against your skin, as if my arms were wrapped around you in the hush of the night.

Do you feel my presence, my love? Do you close your eyes and hear my voice whispering between the lines? Oh, how I long to be with you to watch the dawn break across your face. You have given me more than I ever dared dream. You have shown me a love so complete, so profound, that I often wonder how I managed to live before knowing you. What was my life before your presence my darling Tabitha? A hollow echo, a song half-sung, a world painted in muted shades. And now, with you, everything is richer, deeper, fuller. The sun shines brighter, the air is sweeter, and even in solitude, I am never truly alone, for you have taken root within me, woven yourself into the very fabric of my being.

If fate were cruel and sought to part us, know that I would defy it. If time conspired to erase me from your world, I would carve my love into the very stars so that you might look up and remember. And if, in some distant future, you should doubt the depth of my devotion, return to these words, press this letter to your heart, and know that every stroke of ink was written with a love so fierce, so unshakable, that even the passing years could not diminish it.

I trust in the hand that has brought you into my life, and I entrust to it the hope that we shall not remain apart much longer. Until then, I will wait in the hush of the dawn and the quiet of the night, in the rustling of leaves and the whisper of the wind, in every heartbeat that echoes your name.

And when we meet again, my love, oh what joy that day shall bring. Until then, keep this letter with you, written in ink but sealed with the deepest chambers of my heart.

I dream of the moment I can look into your eyes again, not through memory or longing, but in the tangible, breathless reality of your presence. Until that day, carry my love with you as I carry yours. It is my warmth in the cold, my solace in loneliness, my guiding star in the darkest night. Wherever you are, know that I am with you. And if in the quiet moments, you should find your heart reaching for mine, know that it has never left your grasp.

Yours, now and always

E