Dearest Briana, I know you’re scared. You have every right to be. But someday, decades from now, when our grandchildren are grown and our hair is gray, and we’ve spent a lifetime being harmless to each other, you’re going to find this letter yellowed and wrinkled, forgotten in a shoebox. You’ll read it and you’ll remember how frightened and unsure you were once. How afraid you were to give yourself to someone, how hard it was to trust again—and you’ll smile. Because I’ll still be there. And we will still be in love.
