Because one Reyes just isn't enough . . .
Jac,
Remember the gravy we made during the last week in California? How could you forget, right? Licked off a finger, it tasted akin to burnt rubber but on the potatoes – incredible!
Remember how you asked, as I poured the milk and cornstarch mixture into the pan you were stirring, if the cornstarch needed heat to work? I answered yes and then we stood there quietly, waiting for it to warm up. To become gravy.
As the bubbles started to appear and the mixture thickened, you pronounced it like magic.
Remember?
I’ve been thinking and I’ve decided you’re the cornstarch to my gravy.
When we were packing the car and – both times – I pronounced our load impossible, unmanagable and, ahem, your fault, you calmly and with a smile and a kiss told me all would be well. And it was.
Then we came home and upon entering the house I despaired and pronounced that hope was lost. I was a failure and a horrible wife/housekeeper/mother. It was, as you will recall, unpleasant. You hugged me and assured me that everything was and would be fine. More importantly, you reminded me we were in this together and together we would get it done.
So you see, under heat, you pull me together.
Like cornstarch in gravy.
I don’t know what I’d do without you.
Love you,
Annie
