Love Note

One of many notes my mother wrote to my father when they were dating, 1963 or 64. It's beautiful.

My dearest Marden, 

Perhaps you are not, and will never be, the shining image of success that some wish to be. But, in my honest and quite perspective glance and appraisal, I esteem you as a man who feels correctly, who estimates situations with a sensitivity that stirs me; I love your sensitive body as well, the "Gestalt" of your sensuous mind/body complex that emanates into a total whole of warmth, kindness, and love. Very few men have captured the quality of waiting warmth you've got - rather a mixture of patient humor and warm impetuosity. Do not feel small or unworthy. Every time you comfort me, understand me, you have grown, and have helped me grow. That is the finest thing a man can do.

It is fantastic - love. It keeps recurring, doesn't it? At times my thoughts of you are those of security, placid happiness and pleasure that you're there. But, at other times, as now, my thoughts of you are of absolute necessity, vital in their insistence; so that I am almost helpless because of the coldness without you.