Dear Kylea,
We’re three years in! What a couple of years it’s been, undoubtedly the best of my life. Also the hardest, but still the easiest, funniest, most flourishing years I’ve had the privilege of living.
I wish I had something more profound to say about marriage. A little saying that would keep us going. But I’m at a loss. Maybe that comes at some more culturally significant milestone like ten or thirty or fifty years. I guess we’ll find out.
I’ve been thinking about inertia lately, subconsciously, and only very recently consciously. And let me say, Newton is on our side. Fortunately, we’re still young enough to be moving with abundant energy, but slow enough that there still feels like a lifetime ahead of us.
There are so many stories we could recount, putzing around the West, of us climbing, hiking, napping, skiing, running, crying, sleeping, and generally spending as much time as we can seeking beauty together.
It would be a much more difficult search for beauty alone. I’m so lucky to do it with you. Not only because you embody it, but because you’re so unrelentingly able to spot and share the beauty in front of you. Which has always been the inertia of our time together.
We don’t always find beauty. Not because it isn’t there, but because we’re human and for one reason or another we miss it. Yet, when I excavate the unpleasantness of any hard time from my memory, I am stopped in my tracks by your radiance.
We’ve been talking a lot together about what we’re building, and how much we are currently in a season of preparation. And, Hon, it’s exhausting to prepare. We are weary in our tireless work, united by our goals, strengthened by one another. There’s so much anticipation, dread, anxiety, impatientness, but also hope.
Not hope for a better life—we have everything we could ever need—but it’s the hope of being able to say we built something good for the world. Something that, someday, we’ll sit on a bench staring out over the sunset of our lives, hand in hand, with very little to say or do, because we will have already done it.
We will rest, deeply, knowing there was no better way to have spent our lives except for by each other’s side.
In Love,
Clint
Clint Wilson (‘23) graduated from Calvin with an official degree in philosophy and unofficial degree in outdoor rec. They currently live in Denver and are working remotely for an LSAT prep company. You’ll likely find them slowly jogging a trail, belaying their wife up some rocks, or reading beneath a heap of blankets.
