My Darling Husband

S. and I met in college. I was 19. We saw each other via a mutual friend once in a while. Then we hung out as friends for a while. Then we started dating. At some point, I fell in love with him. It might have been the first day I saw him, or it might have been 2 years later. I'm not sure. But, there is one day that I remember KNOWING that I loved him.
I had told S. relatively early in our relationship how much I love to read. Magazines, books, essays, poetry, whatever. I don't really even care what the subject is, I just like to read. The power of words amazes me. Millions of people speak English, but some have the talent to arrange them into art. Or into weapons. Or into entertainment. Whatever. . .I am just struck by the emotions, questions, reflections, or fears that a single sentence can evoke.
What I didn't mention to S. for a while was that I desperately wanted to BE one of those talented people. I have always wanted to write something that other people would take the time to read (even if they thought it was boring--if they took the time to read to the end, I would feel accomplished.) When I was little, I was always writing stories that I turned into books. I would take typing paper and cut it in half, fold it, and staple it and then write my story on the pages. I wrote a lot of poems too. I gave them as gifts sometimes. I've read back over some of them, and they were really cheesy, but I was 10. . .so I guess I should give myself a break.
Anyway--at some point I shared that secret dream with S. Some time later (probably several months) I was looking in his wallet to get a dollar for a coke (with his permission!!). I found my picture, and the "fortune" that I had gotten in my fortune cookie when we had chinese food a few weeks later. He had kept that fortune and put it as a "caption" on the picture of me in his wallet!! The fact that he would do something like that at all was enough to make me smile, but I knew I loved him when I saw how much he cared about what was important to me. The fortune said "You are a lover of words, and someday you will write a book."
Somehow, him keeping that fortune close to the picture of me felt like him believing in me and supporting my dream. I don't know if I will ever do it. I have a million excuses (no time, no subject, blah blah) but really I'm just plain scared. Of not being good enough, of rejection, of not even being able to finish. I don't know if I still believe in that dream.
But, S. still has the fortune in his wallet with my picture.