A love letter to my dearest husband:
Tonight is Valentine’s and I should have made you an amazing dinner, or we should have gone out to dinner. And I should have worn a new dress, or at least that new lingerie you got me last Valentine’s Day that hasn’t yet had the tags removed. I should have greeted you with a frozen whiskey sour (mix imported to Vieques and hoarded in the fridge) and I should have spent the evening cuddling with you and telling you how much I love you. Instead, we spent today making sure that hundreds of somebody elses would be happy tonight. I made flower arrangements all day while you delivered them to surprised loved ones who got a kick out of big arrangements sent to their desks. And it wasn’t just you and me, buddy. Angelica and her husband and Jessica and her husband are probably just as exhausted as we are. But we’re extra lucky because making Valentine’s Day happen at a flower shop and boutique was only one small part of what you and I accomplished today. We got to kick off a fabulous wedding weekend too, for clients who have become very important to us.
Tonight, my wonderful husband, you helped Hollie-the-Intern and me decorate for Sonia and David’s wedding welcome party (the wedding is Saturday night), bracing the benches as Hollie draped Valentine’s décor I’d hauled all the way back from Michael’s in DC (I will never get all the damned glitter out of my luggage), and then making conversation, coordinating last minute transportation and generally talking the groom off the ledge while we ran back to help shut down the flower shop… on Valentine’s Day. What a guy. Most husbands wouldn’t do this for their wives. Most men COULDN’T do this for anyone. I am the luckiest woman in the world tonight.
I managed to get home first and take a shower – a fete not often accomplished around here where I tend to be the one who works ridiculous hours. But I did it. And I got clean and into jammies (sorry, nothing sexy), and then the phone began to ring. There’s a massive electrical problem at the wedding villa and the power is going to go down. We have one of the only backup systems available. Oh, and wait, we also have the backup gas because apparently the villa is not prepared for this eventuality. The property caretakers are doing triage. The owner is on his way here to borrow gas. And my wonderful husband who has just walked in the door is hauling all of our backup gas up the hill so that it can be waiting on the front porch for somebody else who needs our help. Again. Because that’s the kind of guy that he is. My husband is pretty amazing.
I don’t always appreciate how lucky I am to have a man who was a SWAT team commander for almost 30 years and is now content to be just the wedding planner’s husband. Albeit, there’s nothing normal about Vieques Island and shit blows up left and right here so we’re always on our toes and he’s more likely to be putting out a major crisis than helping me stuff welcome bags — but he does that too when we need him. I remember when we first started the flower shop and Bill was my bouquet holder when I worked on bridal arrangements. This same man, a lifelong police firearms instructor, let me turn his range bag into a Bridal Emergency Bag because it has soooo many pockets that it works perfectly.
Most of the time, I don’t see how lucky I am. I can’t see the forest for the trees. I see frustrated clients. Lots of staff to manage. Vendors to juggle. And my husband is doing bank runs and picking up beach permits and talking uptight MoBs off the ledge. And when he’s not working with me, Bill is at home waiting for me… irritated as can be that I’m still at the office doing conference calls with West Coast brides when I should be home with him remembering why we got married in the first place. But he puts up with it, and he still loves me despite it, or because of it. He knew who he was marrying. He just wishes we could go to the beach together more often. Honestly, he doesn’t want anything from me but my time.
So tonight’s blog is a love letter (a public one) to my husband. Dearest Bill — thank you for supporting all my crazy ideas, including moving to Vieques Island to open a wedding planning company almost six years ago. Thank you for helping me launch the flower business and the boutique, even though you already felt a little bit neglected (justifiably). Thank you for signing on for this ridiculous adventure that is the next step for our company but that puts us out so far in the public eye. And thank you for sticking with me even when all these things turn me into a basket case sometimes and I’m not as good a wife as I should be.
I know I don’t say it enough, but I am a lucky woman. And I love you very, very much. Thank you for being my husband. And I’m sorry I didn’t post this to you last night but all hell broke loose (as you well remember) and then my computer crashed. So instead, you can wake up to this. My gift a day late — I let you sleep in.
I love you.