Dear future hubster

Dear future hubster, I know you know I will love you and cherish you and feed you and will tell you all kinds of things you never wanted to hear (including, but not limited to what the dentist said when both his hands were in my mouth, or which song I try to hum when I'm crawling around in period cramps), but please do not, even in a shared bed, expect that I would share my duvet. You'd be in for a lifelong disappointment.

Dear future hubster, if anybody asks me what I miss from my Goma life (and I suspect some will), I'm just going to say that I miss seeing the Southern Cross. It's about as romantic as pretentious as anything I would be expected to say, and is as abstract and un-relatable for them but personal yet unreal for me as anything else I could come up with.

Dear future hubster, please be aware that on her first day back to the so-called "real world", your future wife may display behaviours that seem strange to others. She may feel overwhelmed by the number of decisions she needs to take in the course of one single day, carefully choose a route to ensure that she doesn't have to turn left in an intersection that has no traffic lights (because her mental state doesn't allow her to handle that level of responsibility), be either timid or overly confident in a roundabout and will probably lose all remaining marbles when facing the toilet paper aisle in the supermarket.  Bear with her. And maybe enroll her in a DIY version of social reintegration programme, for former inmates.

Dear future hubster, since we both know that the little wins are just as important as the big ones, today you should be proud of your future wife. She put on a brave face, walked up to the counter at the cafeteria, and said: "Hello, I'm new here (which wasn't entirely true, but considering the conditions, was accurate nonetheless), how do I get a coffee?" And she didn't even blush! Result: nobody got hurt, but a nice cappuccino was delivered. Made extra delicious by the taste of that little win over useless little fears. One day this future wife of yours may even haggle at the market!

Dear future hubster, the issue of items I accidentally leave behind is on the rise again. While I have a tendency to frantically look for my keys every morning, even though I leave them at the same place every evening, there are times when I appear to be a secret Santa with a hole-y bag, dropping random belongings of mine at any place, any time. Hansel and Gretel could learn from me. One may say, this could be a symptom of separation and attachment troubles. One may not be entirely wrong.