On Monday I chatted with Sarah Sundin whose book, With Every Letter brings hero and heroine together after some anonymous letter swapping. It reminded me of an anonymous letter I received, once.
Not in the traditional way, mind you. Neither sealed in an envelope or posted through the mail, this anonymous note was delivered when a small posse of boys rode past on their bikes. They threw a slip of newspaper at me and zoomed away, as I sat on a picnic blanket with my Beloved one autumn afternoon.
Well, it was more than one autumn afternoon. It was THE autumn afternoon my Beloved asked me to marry him, and I guess these boys saw the happy aftermath of a romantic proposal. And in true little boy fashion, they wanted to poke some fun at the love-birds.
I'm guessing they found an old newspaper in some corner of the park and managed to scribble their own words to add to the sweet nothings whispered that day. Here's what they wrote;
You loovers... you kiss. Ha ha ha...
Yep. That's it. The accurate observations and mis-spelled words of sticky nosed children with too much time on their hands and not enough bike path to take them out of our hair. (This was 1989... and I wore my hair big like the best of them.)
The boys wound around us ringing bike bells and skidding tyres, until they figured they'd celebrated with us enough. Thankfully, some other distraction caught their eye and they tore away into the ... sunset.
(You didn't think I'd not have a sunset in my proposal story, did you?)
Being the sentimental gatherer I am, I thought I'd sift through my drawers, find that note and take a photo for this blog post. Because I do like to keep all manner of faded sentimentality. But do you think I could find it? Nope... I've found everything else I hadn't looked for in twenty years, but not the scrap of newspaper used for my one and only anonymous note.
And in the end, it's no great loss. I did unearth a small envelope with all the cards my Beloved attached to flowers he sent during our courtship. From my very first Valentines' day roses... to the bouquet he sent me on our wedding day.
And as far as sentimental gathering goes, I'd rather re-read those early words of love, than the anonymous scribbles of the BMX bandits, any day. Nameless and faceless, they somehow slipped into our story and we smile when we remember the gang who trod on our proposal.
But it's the smile on my Beloved's face as he reread his words to me, and my matching grin as I watched him, which warmed our hearts today. Twenty two years later, I'm blessed to have his name on the bottom of my love letters.
How about you? Have you ever received an anonymous letter... or written one yourself? Did your proposal go to plan, or was it high-jacked by juveniles on wheels?
Blessings for a wonderful weekend,
Not in the traditional way, mind you. Neither sealed in an envelope or posted through the mail, this anonymous note was delivered when a small posse of boys rode past on their bikes. They threw a slip of newspaper at me and zoomed away, as I sat on a picnic blanket with my Beloved one autumn afternoon.
Well, it was more than one autumn afternoon. It was THE autumn afternoon my Beloved asked me to marry him, and I guess these boys saw the happy aftermath of a romantic proposal. And in true little boy fashion, they wanted to poke some fun at the love-birds.
I'm guessing they found an old newspaper in some corner of the park and managed to scribble their own words to add to the sweet nothings whispered that day. Here's what they wrote;
You loovers... you kiss. Ha ha ha...
Yep. That's it. The accurate observations and mis-spelled words of sticky nosed children with too much time on their hands and not enough bike path to take them out of our hair. (This was 1989... and I wore my hair big like the best of them.)
The boys wound around us ringing bike bells and skidding tyres, until they figured they'd celebrated with us enough. Thankfully, some other distraction caught their eye and they tore away into the ... sunset.
(You didn't think I'd not have a sunset in my proposal story, did you?)
Being the sentimental gatherer I am, I thought I'd sift through my drawers, find that note and take a photo for this blog post. Because I do like to keep all manner of faded sentimentality. But do you think I could find it? Nope... I've found everything else I hadn't looked for in twenty years, but not the scrap of newspaper used for my one and only anonymous note.
And in the end, it's no great loss. I did unearth a small envelope with all the cards my Beloved attached to flowers he sent during our courtship. From my very first Valentines' day roses... to the bouquet he sent me on our wedding day.
And as far as sentimental gathering goes, I'd rather re-read those early words of love, than the anonymous scribbles of the BMX bandits, any day. Nameless and faceless, they somehow slipped into our story and we smile when we remember the gang who trod on our proposal.
But it's the smile on my Beloved's face as he reread his words to me, and my matching grin as I watched him, which warmed our hearts today. Twenty two years later, I'm blessed to have his name on the bottom of my love letters.
How about you? Have you ever received an anonymous letter... or written one yourself? Did your proposal go to plan, or was it high-jacked by juveniles on wheels?
Blessings for a wonderful weekend,
