Читать книгу Finding the Sun Through the Clouds - Dawnmarie Deshaies - Страница 16
ОглавлениеChapter 11
The Letter
I’ll always remember a special moment between Robert and me when I arrived home from a regular, old afternoon after work. As I walked from my car to the doorstep, I looked for my keys in my purse. Unaware of my surroundings, I suddenly bumped into Robert standing on my porch. At first, I was startled, but my anxiety soon fell away as I looked at his incredible smile. He then spoke. “Dawnmarie, I have something to give you.” And as he spoke, he held my hand and gifted me a handwritten letter. Of course, it was addressed to me, from Robert. I kept the letter in my hand and peeled open the manila envelope. In the most eloquent writing, it stated thus:
A woman who comes from dreams of fallen hope. Dreams of a man who had given up his pursuit of his fairy tale.
As I gaze upon her, there is so much to see.
Her every move, no matter how small, displays her gleam and beauty throughout the space she holds.
She leaves me breathless.
Her beauty is unrivaled by the most beautiful of all women in this man’s intuitive eyes; the curves of her body and face are such that only a maestro could have created in his greatest imagination.
While her eyes, wild, sparkle, which cannot even be held by the brightest stars on the darkest of nights.
Her thoughtfulness and care for the people she loves lead me only to hope that I someday will also have love as mine.
Every day since we have met has gone like this.
I awake in the morning with thoughts of her still fresh from the night. Rushing her image to my consciousness.
The image of my princess is beckoned by the heart. I am called by a force to reach her so that I may hear her voice.
The sounds of voice fill me with contentment, and a desire fills me, grows stronger than the previous day.
As the days go on, the thoughts of her linger in my mind like the scent of a wild rose with a touch of morning dew. My longing for her grows.
I grow to the point of frustration.
But I begin to count the days and minutes knowing that soon I will touch my radiant dream. When finally we touch, the long waiting is silenced and overwhelmed by the beating of my heart.
The touch has sent a feeling which escapes all words.
Can she be the one?
—R. J. Deshaies,
signed July 21, 1988