Dear Mr. Hooker, I've gotten so used to having you around each day that I often forget to make mention of the little things you do for me. Thank you for being the best bug-squasher, coffee-maker, clothes-ironer, Suite-vacuumer, laundry-starter, bear-hugger, trash-taker-outer, and curling-iron-unplugger this girl could ever ask for.
Dear Instagram, we had 3 overnight visitors at the Suite last week. Between long conversations over coffee, pretty walks through the neighborhood, and delicious meals each night, I had plenty of opportunities to snap some photos. As much as I love you, I'm learning that sometimes a memory is better than a photograph.
Dear long brown hairs, I don't know exactly how you do it, but you manage to find your way onto every surface of our Suite. Poor Jake is always finding you on couch cushions, shirts, and bed sheets. How in the world are there any of you left on my head?
Dear Jake, last night we realized that our 2-year anniversary is less than 3 weeks away. You've experienced every side of me and you've had a front-row seat to all my faults, so hearing you say that "it just keeps getting better and better" means the world. I couldn't agree more.
Each Monday I write four letters: two letters to my husband and two random letters to whatever else is on my heart each week. What originally started as a fun way to record events and funny stories pleasantly developed into a weekly habit of practicing thankfulness.