Birthday Eve.

To my dearest Plum the day before your first birthday:

Sometimes at night when you let me rock you to sleep, my heart skips a beat. There is no better feeling than your heavy head resting against my heart. You don't mind that I can't sing. I sing the same couple of verses from David Allen Coe, Tanya Tucker, and Amazing Grace. I make up the words when I can't remember the real words.

I have explained to your father that if a tornado hits our house, he better hope he doesn't survive without you. I truly believe that God means for he and I to spend our lives together and without him, I would be a fraction of myself, but the sun would rise as would I, to care for you and support you. I have seen another do it. I would have to fulfill my life's purpose to be everything God intended me to be for you. However, without you, the world would stop turning, my brain would cease to function, my heart would break. I have seen others persevere but they must be made of stronger stuff.

All at once, I regret bringing you into a world that is filled with hate and greed when you are so pure and I believe that you can change the world. Loving you makes me want to adopt babies that, for whatever reason, don't have someone loving them. I can't imagine not loving you.

Don't think that this love means that I'm going to let you run all over me. I see that twinkle in your eye. I already have a wooden spoon picked out to threaten you with.

I love you to the moon and back.

The Cuddler