Allow me to paint a picture...
If you would, allow me to paint a picture in words.
A man sits in a small, red room in Tallahassee with a greeting card opened in one hand. The man turns over the card, smiling warmly as he sees the hallmark sign on the back. Not really due to the commercials as the card itself is only paper, yet the emotions attached to it, the feelings radiating from the card set him aglow. Sitting in the man’s lap is the torn envelope “-Eddie- My Baby” is latticed across the front of it in a way that also makes him take a moment to study the penmanship, to appreciate every aspect of this small gesture. Closing his eyes he can almost hear her whisper it to him.
The front of the cards has four crudely drawn happy faced flowers on the front, one of which is upside down. Apart of the man sees the odd-ball flower as himself. Different… in a way that most don’t know or understand, most would prefer not to. The man opens the card, stoking his fingers across the paper as it unfolds in his hands. On the inside it says “…just because.” Also inside the card is more of the delicate lattice work directly from her fingertips, for him. Her words show him that she is happy, that she knows how much he cares for her and her for him.
He reads:
“I’m always thinking of you!”
His dimple darkens:
“Who you are is so wonderful,”
He bites his lip in anticipation:
“And each part makes me happier than I have ever been before.”
He stares in happiness, as he traces the scrawled heart in front of her signature. She is beauty. She is grace. She is fortitude. She is gratitude. She is kind. She is intelligent. She is enchanting. She’s ticklish and tough. She’s delicate and rough. She is stylish with her coach bag. She is sexy in grey sweat pants, drying dishes with a rag. She makes great scrambled eggs. She’s got sexy legs. She is patient. She is the wonder in my world. All she has to do is write me a card, yet she does so much more. Ella es fuego de mi corazón. Ella es toda a mí. Y tanto más. Elle est le feu de mon cœur. Elle est tout à moi. Vous êtes tout à moi.
Even when we are apart, we are not far.
Sincerely,
eddie
A man sits in a small, red room in Tallahassee with a greeting card opened in one hand. The man turns over the card, smiling warmly as he sees the hallmark sign on the back. Not really due to the commercials as the card itself is only paper, yet the emotions attached to it, the feelings radiating from the card set him aglow. Sitting in the man’s lap is the torn envelope “-Eddie- My Baby” is latticed across the front of it in a way that also makes him take a moment to study the penmanship, to appreciate every aspect of this small gesture. Closing his eyes he can almost hear her whisper it to him.
The front of the cards has four crudely drawn happy faced flowers on the front, one of which is upside down. Apart of the man sees the odd-ball flower as himself. Different… in a way that most don’t know or understand, most would prefer not to. The man opens the card, stoking his fingers across the paper as it unfolds in his hands. On the inside it says “…just because.” Also inside the card is more of the delicate lattice work directly from her fingertips, for him. Her words show him that she is happy, that she knows how much he cares for her and her for him.
He reads:
“I’m always thinking of you!”
His dimple darkens:
“Who you are is so wonderful,”
He bites his lip in anticipation:
“And each part makes me happier than I have ever been before.”
He stares in happiness, as he traces the scrawled heart in front of her signature. She is beauty. She is grace. She is fortitude. She is gratitude. She is kind. She is intelligent. She is enchanting. She’s ticklish and tough. She’s delicate and rough. She is stylish with her coach bag. She is sexy in grey sweat pants, drying dishes with a rag. She makes great scrambled eggs. She’s got sexy legs. She is patient. She is the wonder in my world. All she has to do is write me a card, yet she does so much more. Ella es fuego de mi corazón. Ella es toda a mí. Y tanto más. Elle est le feu de mon cœur. Elle est tout à moi. Vous êtes tout à moi.
Even when we are apart, we are not far.
Sincerely,
eddie
