Letter to my future daughter

I hope one day someone looks at you like he's been waiting a long time to feel as happy as he does when he's with you. I hope he tells you cute things like how he found this cosy Italian restaurant around the corner and kiss your nose before spinning you around in the street. I hope when you ask him to go for a walk in the middle of the night he doesn't complain that it's too late or too cold and even though you can see the condensation of your breath in the midnight air I hope you feel warm. I hope old ladies smile knowingly when you walk by, hand in hand, along the pavement and I hope you are smiling too.

When he whispers how much he loves you I hope you feel your heart beating so fast you're scared you'll never recover. I hope that when things get difficult he stays and makes you feel important, like he wants every part of it and isn't afraid to admit it. I hope he finds words that touch you where his fingers cannot and knows how to pull your hair when you're feeling electric but holds your soul when you're fragile like glass. And I hope you find someone who asks before he kisses you, not because he needs permission but because he wants to see your lips trembling. I hope his hands feel right around your waist when you reply 'yes' and again 'yes', until you're falling apart in his arms whispering 'yes, yes, yes' and I hope you never need to ask if he's the one because the answer will be staring at you in the face.

— m.f. // Letter to my future daughter