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Dear Caroline,

I love Sundays. I love waking up to the gentle sunshine on a quiet on a Sunday morning.

I love waking up next to you every morning, but Sundays are the very best for reasons that trace back to the beginning of our relationship. The very beginning, when we waited all week for Sunday because that was our day.

When I think of Sundays, I think of that Sunday evening on the waterfront, our first really real date. The one I wrote about in Sunsets and Sidewalks. I think about that time Jenn went to Australia to visit Steve and we woke up in the same bed on a Sunday morning for the first time ever. I wish I hadn’t gotten into it only two hours before, but that’s when I was also doing the paper route and not getting home until 6 am.

When I think of Sundays with you, I think of waking up next to you, kissing you, making coffee, and coming back to bed with a book. I imagine breakfast in bed, lazy days, dinner on the grill outside, the kids playing in the yard. I imagine our grandchildren coming over in the afternoon to visit. I imagine Sunday is a day for baking cookies, filling the house with the sweet smells of butter, cinnamon, vanilla, chocolate, and warm oatmeal cookies. I imagine my hands in the dirt, planting flowers and you picking fresh fruits and veggies, warm from the sun.

I imagine lunches packed for the school week ahead, a clean house, watching tv together, the four of us snuggled into a warm ball on the couch. I see the kids sleeping peacefully, us together, a hot bubble bath. Making love in the soft light of our small nightstand lamps. The perfect ending to a week in our lives.

How can we ever have a bad week when it ends this way? This is the life I look forward to as your wife.

Love,
Stacy

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