Disclaimer: I don't own it, all that jazz. Feedback if you want a letter from Tommy to Jude!
Tommy,
I'm in one of those emotional pregnant lady moods, and I just feel the need to write you a letter that tells you how I feel about you.
I love you, Tommy. I love you more than I love myself. I love you more than my career, more than this house, and, even though it's terrible, more than our child. I don't know what I would do without you.
I remember our honeymoon. We just took off, not going anywhere specific. We drove for days on end, and even when we weren't talking, it was the most comfortable I've ever been. We would check into shabby motels in the middle of nowhere, and lie naked, holding each other. Just holding each other. Most couples would go crazy, but not us. We collected rain water in a beer bottle from the first real hotel we stayed in. That bottle sits in the living room, where we can always see it.
God, Tommy. I'm trying so hard, and just not getting this right. I want you to know, that right now, I've never loved you more. You're sitting next to me, in bed, but your head is lying on my stomach, listening to the baby. When she kicks, you cradle my huge belly in your hands. I love you. I can't say it enough.
I love that I'm having our child. I love that our only souvenirs from our honeymoon are a beer bottle with rain water and a few bars of soap from various motels. I love that when I was sixteen, you kissed me, and I knew, right then, that I would marry you. I love that on my seventeenth birthday, you confessed to me. Not in plain words, but so I would understand. I love that you've always been my producer, my rock. I love that even though I'm slightly more famous than you, you don't care. I love how you love our baby, our first child, even though she's not even born yet. I love your smile, your eyes, your body. I love how my body fits to yours. I love that your seven years older than me, but sometimes, not quite that mature.
To be fair, I've completed a list of things I hate about you. Here it is:
I hate that you never pick up your dirty towels out of the bathroom.
I hate your morning breath (but mine's probably just as stinky)
I hate that you don't fold socks
That's it. It doesn't even compare, does it? I love you, so much. Thank you for bearing with me on my emotional days. Thank you for going out at three in the morning for me last night. Thank you for choosing me, Tommy.
Love, love, love, love, love, love forever,
Jude
