Dear Derek,

 The other day you were tired and hot and sore, ready to come in and call it a day, when I came out to see how the boy's birthday present was coming along.  You had gotten far, but I still asked, "Are you going to put the slide up today?"  You sighed and answered, "My battery needs to charge a little."  I didn't know if you meant yourself, or your tool.  But I answered, "You know Luke would be thrilled if the slide was up when he wakes up from his nap."  You just nodded as you hauled your tools back into the garage.  As soon as your battery was charged (literally?  figuratively?  both?), you went back out and finished the slide.  The building isn't done.  The swings aren't up.  But you pushed yourself, finished the slide that very day, and made two little boys extremely happy.  Can you tell?  You are anything but selfish.

I don't always know how to love you best.  You don't need much, and you ask for less.  Sometimes I joke that you "put up with us" - this crazy family of yours.  But you don't.  You do much better than that.  You love us.  You listen to us cry. You are tender when someone is hurt.  You keep a close eye on finances, and take our family's needs seriously.  You come home after a long day at work to a screaming baby (yes, he's in a screaming phase!), a tired wife, a messy house, and a three-year old delightedly jumping up and down shouting, "Daddy's home! Daddy's home!", and you smile as you pick up the baby and give hugs all around.  I don't know if you know that those hugs are sometimes the only thing keeping me from literally chucking the burnt casserole out the window (or the screaming baby). You are gentle, and you teach me to be gentle too.

You are not a saint.  But you are my husband, and these boy's Dad.  And you do better than you think, at both those jobs. I said I don't always know how to love you best.  And I don't.  I wish you liked chocolate bars.  Or movies.  Or something I could wrap in tissue paper and hide under your pillow.  Instead I make dinners with ingredients you've never heard of, and make you a sacrificial guinea pig for my experimental meals.  Instead you sit endlessly in front of my camera while I shoot test shots to check my light.  Instead I drag home porch swings and french doors and old windows for do-it-yourself projects that turn into honey-will-you-do-it-for-me projects.  Instead I call you up at work, in tears about how the washing machine isn't working and Luke just pooped in his pants - again. Oh dear.  Maybe you are a saint.

Most days I feel really lucky to have you as my husband, father to our sons.  And the days when I don't feel lucky, it's just because I haven't sat down for a moment to think about it - I've taken you a bit for granted perhaps.  But even that is a reminder of how consistent you are, reliable.  If you're always there, never stopping loving us, you're just part of us, and that's the way we like it - the way it should be.  We hope you see that when we take you for granted, you have done your job perfectly.  But we try real hard not to take you for granted. And I wanted to tell you so.  Somehow. I want to love you the best way I know how.  I wrote you a letter.

I love you.

laura

   

Dear Derek,

      The boys and I are missing you.  Especially at bedtime when you would normally read stories, help bathe and dress Luke, and give hugs and kisses before tucking him in.  Seamus seems to know you're missing too and keeps saying, "Da da da da da da", which we are pretty sure means, "Where the heck did my Dad go and how come he didn't take me with him?!" 
       Today we went to the beach with my parents.  We all squeezed into Mom's corolla and hit the road around 9am, which I thought was quite an achievement considering we were only out of bed and blinking around 7:45.  Well, except for Dad, who was up earlier to go to Shafter and help Phil and Carol with an alternator thing...I don't know what all.  We managed to make it to Tobin James in Paso Robles before we needed a stop.  Bad timing I know, to need a bathroom break just when we get to Tobin James.  But we decided to make the best of the situation and taste some wines.  Look up the wine Barberra.  That's the one I'm coming home with.  The merlot I also purchased will not make it home I'm afraid.
        We made it to Pismo just in time for a bread bowl of chowder from Splash and a walk on a very windy and sandy beach.  Poor Seamus, I set him down on the blanket on the sand for about TWO seconds and the blowing sand got all over him.  We'll be finding sand in his crevices for weeks (and my camera's crevices!  ick.).  He was brave though, no tears, even though that had to be strange and uncomfortable.  We had stellar weather.  We were all peeling off layers of sweaters, and long sleeves.  Luke decided to streak while we were trying to get his swim trunks on...I have some pretty funny pictures of that to show you.  If not for the wind, it would have been a perfect day to play in the water.

         Anyway, we ended up in Arroyo Grande Village to have ice cream at Doc Bernstein's and then at a wonderful antique store just up the way and when we left the antique store it was 4pm!  We had planned on driving up the coast towards Ragged Point to let the boys get a nap, but we only got as far as Morro Bay before the sun set and it was dinner time.  So we watched the sun set over the bay, enjoyed a spectacular show put on by some hungry pelicans (they were truly amazing circling and then DIVING into the water with a mighty sploosh!  Luke laughed out loud and shouted, pointing.  He would have jumped up and down but we were already buckled back in the car when we noticed them), and drove up to the rock to watch some waves crash against the breakwater.. 

         Then, in true California fashion, we had supper at Taco Temple where we met Santa Claus and Luke got his photo taken with Santa next to his plate of half-eaten burrito, and Grandpa told Luke all about the poor forgotten shiny-tailed reindeer George, who is the reason car's tail lights are red, and who everybody ignored once Rudolph turned up with his glowing red nose to steal all the glory.  And we drove home in the dark, whispering over the warm, sleeping heads of our two wonderful sons.

           I sigh when I think of today because it was such a splendid, beautiful, warm, sunny day after four?  five? days of dark cold fog.  And I sigh when I think of today because it was so incredibly wonderful to share our boys with my parents, and see them together, and think sadly of all the time we don't get to spend with them (an unhelpful exercise, I know, but I can't help it).  And I sigh when I think of today because it was so close to perfect, if only you had been here.

xoxox,

laura