Someday

When we're grown up (more grown up), we'll live in a house full of windows by the sea, or in the mountains, or maybe both, somehow. We'll be married-- but you knew that already-- and I'll wear a big white dress, and you'll set something on fire at the reception (you probably knew that, too).

We'll have two dogs-- an Irish Setter (I'm naming it Gopher, or maybe Spud) and a Great Dane (you can name that one) and a cat and maybe something else, but probably not. The vet will love us.

Sometimes you'll cook dinner, and sometimes I will, and sometimes we'll both cook it. I'll do the laundry, and you'll do more than your share of the chores. We'll both do the dishes.

We'll have adopted some children-- older than four, but I don't know how many yet. Maybe we'll adopt a whole family. They'll hate us because we're not their parents, and we'll love them because we want to be.

We'll live close enough to our mothers that we can visit them in under a day's drive. Both of them will love you more than me. That won't change.

The house will have a tower-- maybe it won't come with one, but we'll give it one eventually-- and I'll fill it with books and plants and cushy chairs. It'll also have a big room downstairs that you can do whatever you want with-- maybe you'll make robots, or carve chairs, or design a computer that's a plant, or learn to spin, or have a forge, or whatever. Probably all of it, at one point or another.

You'll help other people too much, and it'll bother me, but I'll put up with it because it's who you are, and I'll be selfish and pessimistic and won't understand why you put up with me.

After a long time, we'll be old. You'll make people think you're crazy-- you won't really be, but you'll like that they think you are, and I'll be fat and bake cookies and pies for whoever's brave enough to get past you on our porch to the kitchen. We'll paint the kitchen a bright enough yellow that even you'll have to say it's not white.

Neither of us will ever do everything we wanted to, but we'll be happy-- mostly-- because we'll have done it together.