Dear future hubster

Dear future hubster, When asked about your future wife's superpowers, remember to mention that she's really good at blending in. Water bottle in one hand, coffee in the other, walking with purpose, and she looks like she knows where she's going. Hell she even looks like she knows what she's doing. May the rest of the world fooled by this act, but you, dear future hubster, should know that she probably has absolutely no clue what next, and behind that purposeful walking she anxiously wonders what the hell she just got herself into.

Dear future hubster, we will both work, eventually. We will have kids, hopefully. When days will be too short, and nights too tiresome, and I will not even have the time to shower, put some water to boil. Bring me a cup of tea and a hug. Not necessarily in this order.

Dear future hubster, I am sorry that you are missing a quarter of an X and therefore you don't have superpowers like I do. I still like you anyway.

Dear future hubster, I think about it every time something similar happens, when some famous, admired, inspiring, appreciated artist's time on Earth ends. How the whole world seems to just suddenly recall how much that person, or, most likely, that person's work has meant to them.  I understand nostalgia and have myself experienced that remoter grief for somebody I never knew, but I can't help asking the bitter, cynical question: How about we start appreciating our artists while they are still alive? And while we're at it, how about doing the same to the people we appreciate in our actual lives? You know, those commonly known as 'loved ones'? 

Dear future hubster, Sometimes I feel a quiet relief that you're not around. Not because I want the entire pizza for myself, or because I don't want questioning looks when I'm watching any given episode of Game of Thrones 3+ times.  Rather when times, the universe, the stars, throw an opportunity at me which means packing and moving again. In those moments I am relieved that I don't have to ask you to do it again. That I don't have to ask you to put me first, even if we discussed it, even if I knew you told me it was my turn. That I don't have to think that I'm uprooting you yet again, that I don't have to expect you to start over new because of me.  That I don't have to wonder whether you would say "this time no".