Monday, November 14, 2011
Sunday mornings. Time for our weekly love letters. Most weeks, but not all. My husband and I taking turns posing one question to answer separately. Sometimes emotional topics leading to heartfelt discussion. "What do I like most about our marriage and why?" or "What is the nicest thing you've done for me this week and how do I feel about that?". Often in the more quirky realm. "If you were a bird, what kind would you be and why?" or "What was your favourite comfort food as a child and how did it make you feel?". Writing for ten minutes max. Exchanging our answers. Reading through each other's letters twice before commenting. Spending a few minutes sharing our thoughts on what we have discovered. Continuing to reveal something of our essence to each other. Each and every time. Often to ourselves as well. Committing to this activity fourteen years ago after attending a workshop together. One I was directed to in my sleep. The name of it spelled out in large white capital letters many times over the course of the night. All these years and hundreds of letters later. Helping this relationship stay fresh and alive.