Dear Wigleaf,

I wish I could be there to watch your face as you read this.

Whenever I write a letter to my wife, especially around the holidays or special occasions, any hint of earnestness is met with a chuckle. It is always open season on a bared soul at my house. In fact, part of the fun of writing her now is to see her reaction. How hard can I get her to roll her eyes? Will she slowly lean her head back with beautiful silent laughter? But most of all, will she understand me?

So I will start with this: I have missed you, Wigleaf. I've had things to say all these years, but nothing was coming out right. Then my life began to take on more meaning. Since we last spoke, my wife and I had three sons, all under three years old. They make me real. They make me want to talk again. They make me make sense.

I'm not scared to say how I feel anymore, and I hope you're rolling your eyes so hard that you're getting dizzy. Isn't there some cliché that marries dizziness and happiness? Perhaps I could invoke it here.

Because basically, I want to tell you I'm happy. And I'm glad we're back in touch.



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Read JD's story.

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