Letter to my husband – I Should Have Known Then


I Should Have Known Then


My Love,


The night you walked into my world
you changed it forever.


I should have known then

when from your backpack

as a magician you revealed

two apples and two beeswax candles

and a good bottle of red wine.


My head went back

my eyes narrowed to try to see you better

and I wasn’t sure whether to be

delighted or suspicious or both.

Turns out both was appropriate.

As you do continue to amaze

as well as astonish and stir curiosity.
Some days I wonder how you could

be a dairy farm boy from West Virginia

and at the same time make me wonder

for the first few years if you work for the CIA.

You are just fascinating like that.

Knowing answers to unknowable things.

Whether that is your way through the Paris subway

or the kind of caviar on a little Sunday blini

or the brand of chandelier bobbles in a

Russian champagne bar in New York.


Did I say New York? What about the time,

the first time at the United nations when

the tech guy never showed and you were

able to broadcast films for 5 women with

5 different technologies on the fly.

Hum. Hmm. Ho. Hallelujah for someone

truly interesting.


How you are able to be so multi-dimensional

and yet so country boy down home in

the same moment is part of your intrigue.

You taught me enough quantum physics

to be dangerous. I think we like about

one another, that we are rather

dangerous to existing establishments.

We fancy ourselves troublemakers.


You aren’t from around here are you?

Hang out in this solar system often?

What’ll you have?

“The Last Word” you say in the Peacock Alley

of the Waldorf Astoria while lounging on velvet chairs

listening to a Leonard Cohen song being played

on the grand piano.

A vintage cocktail to go with the Pal Zaleri

tuxedo you brought when you moved in.

You had a borrowed suitcase, a pillow, a tuxedo

and a book of Rumi.

Yes I should have known then.

Turns out that tuxedo came in handy

on one very special day.
That first night, that second night, one year

and 10 days apart. You said you knew.

Maybe I will never know what it is you knew

those two first nights, when on the 7th night

you asked me to marry you.


I.Just. Said. Yes.

Why? You might wonder after only meeting

a man two times would I say yes to a lifetime?

Because you patted your shoulder,

indicated that was where my head went

and said something like – “this is your home now”

Girls are crazy about that kind of

country song eros.

I call you Rainmaker.


Rainmaker and Husband.

Husband, today is your birthday and we are going

off an adventure but we start this day like

we do every morning for the past few years

waking up and saying

Good Morning I love you.

With a cup of coffee, music, sleepy smiles and poetry.
I will never find the words to say

What it has meant to me to have you in my life.
Whether that is learning how to smell the envelope of a glass

or explode in buttercream sandwich giggles or

listen to you sing the blues at a random open mic

or pet your hair for baby elephant hour

which only lasts a few minutes but lasts all day.


Oh – and – how you look at me.

You see me in ways I don’t see myself.

You have opened me to myself through pleasure

and possibility. And a good time.

I needed that. Needed the laughter and the loving.


Thank you for walking into my life

I should have known then.

And for that I give thanks to God.

For you, mysterious is an understatement.


This isn’t our first rodeo

but this sure is the funnest one,

and the one I want to spend the rest of my life

riding into with you.


I hope you will spend this day, this life,

With me, my love




Your Babaaaaaaaaa
Shiloh Lewis