Dear Heart,

You have always been such a romantic, and I’m not just talking about love and romance.

You have always loved the smallest moments of beauty and peace, excitement and thrills. You are full once I have run through a grassy field with the wind in my hair or yelled at the top of my lungs from a beach on the brink of a downpour of rain. You are filled with every good and wonderful feeling in the moments I am not wearing any shoes, since that has always seemed to be a weakness of yours. Window seats, old books, summer rain, sunflowers, a baby’s laugh; these are just a few of the things that urge you to start pounding happily in my chest.

Aren’t we quite a pair, you and I? We would rather stay out late and look at the stars with the one we love then go to a party at 11pm. It is much more fun to go on adventures with characters in a book published in 1927 then watch hours on TV; except Gilmore Girls since who doesn’t love that show!

We’ve made bad choices together as well. I think your friend Conscience is much more of a practical thinker. He tends to predict the outcome of certain actions very well. Yet still we don’t listen do we, little heart.

You do quite enjoy traditional romantic gestures. You seem to fly when the gentleman opens the car door for me or lets me hold the crook of his arm as we walk.

Yes, I know what aches you as well. Too often I’ve given you to someone who doesn’t deserve you, but you don’t know any better either. We have put our trust in the wrong people before, haven’t we. How naive we sometimes are. And how sensitive, also. We must develop a thick skin before I graduate college, since even with all the beauty God created for this world, ugly sin lives here too.

You have felt the thrills of the Italian locals shouting at a national soccer game and enjoyed peace watching the sun set over German hills. Yet when it comes to romantic love you could never quite make good choices.

Yet, happy little heart, this time you’ve got it right.

This time you led me to the man of my dreams. He opens the car door with the sweet “my lady” words that fall from his lips. He gazes at me lovingly while we walk and I get to hold his hand. He cherishes me and treasures me and doesn’t take me for granted. You always smile and fly, little heart, when he is around.

I always loved characters in books and movies whose hearts felt connected to someone else. I always wanted my heart to feel that same connection to someone; the one where the farther apart you are from them the more your heart feels stretched like a rubber band.

You stretch when he’s gone, dear heart. You fill when he’s here.

Yes, little heart of mine, this time you made the best choice of all in loving him.