Dear Husband,

How I long for the day I will call you that; firmly, softly and resolutely. I am writing since like the feeble human being I am, my heart grew restless. Just fleetingly. Then, like a silent song in my heart it came to me, “Do not be anxious, but in prayer and supplication, cast your needs…” My heart leaps unburdened.

I write to you now that I wear my heart on my sleeve. Wanton. A true reflection of what is inside. Seemingly forlorn or bleak, but it is my heart even so. A heart beat dear lover by all that’s on my Newsfeed, my family and friends’ talks and my life’s own timeline. Let me spell it out.

Everyone is in a relationship but me.

So I took to twitter for its succinct wit and pithy political remarks. Honey, that did not help. I thought to write to you.

My darling, I am trying to keep my most prized rooms in myself in sacristy. That you may find them at optimum, ready and without prejudice or whimsical fantasies of whom you ought to be. That when my heart starts beating double and my thoughts become juggled at your charm I will not confuse you with your clones. Oh they have come to me husband. You won’t believe how authentic I deemed them be. Some did not even look like you. They did not speak with your refinement, did not walk with your purpose, did not shine like Your son and wait with your poise. But my jaded little heart wanted so much to have short lived compliments and pacify my attention seeking self and so I thought if he was ‘sorta’ or ‘kinda’ like you, close, enough and then I probably would teach him to be you.

Oh how wrong. I AM FROM YOUR RIB. It has never been so hard to know. If I am a piece from your piece husband, a half of your full, flesh of your flesh and bone of your bone, the largest part for your completion then you will know me. I will reflect you by my walk and my talk and then you will not feel ‘sorta’ like you love me. We will love each other my Adam and easily so for there will not be another option. You alone have the inscription that dexterously encodes my heart, makes me tick and thus we will fuse. Like embryo to sperm, left to right and yin to yan completely bound and indivisible because one plus one equals one if you add HIM.

Husband, I have prayed for you in earnest wondering what you will be like. What I might feel like when I meet you. How loquacious my prayer will be the day it is revealed to me by His graces that indeed, it is by your side like Sarah, I will journey, it is your hand, like Moses’ that will lead mine and your diligent commitment to Him first, like David that will guide our home every morning. I often wonder if perchance, our paths have crossed. If so, Oh handsome lover, forgive us for we may be too blinded now to take a chance.

Since my inception, I thought I’d meet you early. We have danced, traveled and have been dreary, read, dined, hungered, laughed, cried, lost and won in my chimera with you. But certainly, I am not the Sherriff of this town and am not the author of time so I cannot command it. Until we are unstuck from the limbo dear husband, the master of all fate will keep polishing and honing me until I am set. Wait it out.

For now dear husband I will leave a few footprints in the sand of how you can trace me. I dislike lackluster in betweens. Ergo meanwhile, I’m taken by coffee shops and little hidden restaurants. You guessed right. I am an introvert. Not shy, just introverted. I am the one bent over a laptop typing the letters out of the keyboard or the one frowning or giggling over a book. Other times I’m walking or driving around singing (sometimes very off key and very loudly to whatever jazzy tune that’s on my earphones or car radio.) My love for Karura is like three elephants; huge. I jog there, I cycle there, I walk there and I picnic there. I work indoors and that surely lessens our chances of meeting but que sera sera; whatever will be, will be. I like to travel too husband and thrill and sunsets as seen from the by-passes and flowers from ABC place and Museums and Church and slow dancing and Blueberry milkshake from Kaldis, pancakes from Java and Jasmine tea and pasta from Mediterraneo. For easy reference, I am the one praying reverently like Hanna that only if he sees fit, to let me meet you.

Finally my darling, I have erred in many ways and made decisions I should have never made. But oh how time heals. We are renewed and made whole again every morning. I know now what battles to relinquish and what journeys never to undertake. Darling, you must have prayed for me. I can’t realize this all on my own. To understand what ‘match made in heaven’ means when the human spirit fails to grasp couples that seem so swoon. Better yet, now I thoroughly comprehend that I need to wait and that it is only right if He deems fit.

I am already swoon lover; I just haven’t met you yet. (cue Michael Buble).

Yours in Waiting,

Wambui Gichobi