My darling, Sylvia,

Last week, while we were trying to find private space to celebrate our 46th anniversary, I came to the realization that my love for you is an action word that changes as the externals of our complicated life change.

In my 19th year, my love was taking you for a pizza at Sam’s or a twenty minute break before curfew. In my 22nd year, it was washing your beautiful to your waist hair in our old fashioned deep kitchen sink. At 27, it was walking our daughter and softly singing old Kingston Trio songs to her. When I was 35, it was learning that vacuuming was really important. When I was 42, it was holding in my arms a sick and troubled son. When I was 50, I discovered that emptying the dishwasher somehow had become very important to you. At 56, I discovered that singing “Buffalo Gals, Won’t you Come Out Tonight?” with a confused Mom as we took her home after dinner was love. When I was 64, love was saying I was open to your retiring early. At 67, love was saying, “Let’s go to Tuscany; I can put off buying the tractor.” At 68, love is “I’ll keep the grandchildren; you go to your meeting.”

Love, let me tell you; the ways of my loving have changed, but the fact of my love remains. Your love touches my soul daily.

Eddie