April 13, 2016

My dearest,

You tell me you had a dream last night. In your dream, I had thrown out the lavender pouches on our bed. You were dismayed, you tell me, because you love their fragrance, and when you woke up you weren’t sure if it was a dream or not.

So you ask me if I threw out the lavender pouches.

No, I say, I did not. Here – and I lift one of our pillows up – they are. Where they have always been.

You smile and say, Thank goodness.

I would have gotten you new ones anyway, had I thrown these out.

No, you tell me, you like these just fine. They are ours.

Yours, ever and always.