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“where you are is where i belong.

where you go is where i want to be.” –dave matthews


sometimes a tale of love is better told from its hero or heroine…

“My Dearest Andrew,

My lungs require an extra deep breath, as I sit here to write you this little token of love. A gigantic, nostalgic sigh as I sail away to the beginning of Us– all those nights I’d stay up, restless in bed, under a mess of white sheets, with the sound of Ryan Adams serenading my racing heart, that old brown journal in hand, searching for words to give to you, words that could do justice for the feelings that were just starting to take my heart captive.

I loved writing to you, and imagining you reading my thoughts out loud, thousands of miles away, underneath a little yellow light at your desk, I imagined your hands, what they looked like, as they tore open the envelope, unpacking what I had sealed for you.

Our exchanging of words, of heart, in letters, in poetry, and now in real life have become my favorite memories, ever. The sharing, Andrew. What we’ve intentionally shared, it moves me like the moon moves the waves. They’ve washed me up on your shore, once lost at sea, now comfortably anchored with you, where I intend to bask for all of time.

Even before we met each other in person, I remember sending you a post card from a little ma and pop shop in New York. I remember signing my name– Love, Whitney. I wondered what you’d think when you’d see my handwriting, and what you’d feel when you saw the word Love, followed by my name. Would you smile? Would your heart skip like mine?

I remember your voice so well, because it was all I had for all those months. Smiling, I sat perched at my window sill, looking out to the street, the rain falling, and the lights gleaming, listening to your dreams of meeting me, someday soon. If we could only meet…

We would whisper in the dark, until 3 am, talking about anything that came to mind. You sat in your old El Camino, and told me about the bench seat you installed, and you told me one day you’d like to have me sit real close to you in that middle seat, and take me out to dinner, and hold my hand. To just hold your hand, what I’d do.

I remember giggling in excitement as I’d anxiously tear open the mail sitting on my bed. I’d read those letters a hundred times, and wonder what would happen if we took this chemistry to the next level… if we perhaps… met.

And at last, we did. Five long months later, it was time. I picked you up from the airport, after reapplying my lip gloss 37 times, and my heart felt like it was going to burst at its seams.

I saw you standing there on the curb, at LAX, and as my car slowed down, time began to stand still.

It slowly sank into my skin, what was happening, as the door slowly creaked open, and as life continued to play, in slow motion, I saw you, my future, merging with me… your future.

Andrew, that first time we looked at each other, that… that was magic. Do you remember it like I do? The beginning. Our story. It’s my favorite one.

Now, a few chapters in, I sit here, completely overwhelmed by what has been written for us.

And to think, our beginning… was just the beginning.

My love, cheers to the future, and our story being told, and retold, to each other, in memories, to one another, and one day to our children to come.

I love you.
















love. love. love.



IMG_8293whitanddrewblogdrewwhitblog IMG_8152forwhitblog





“To My Darling, Whitney,

It is evident you have beauty and charm in spades—an overabundance in fact, if that is possible. No one can deny that. Anyone with even the slightest amount of sense and eyes in their head can tell you’re magnificently made. And I know this far better than anyone else, having been given the opportunity to study you so intently all these months. But there is far more to you than cute dresses, or even your stunning, natural aesthetics…

Whitney, it has been the greatest honor for the last year and some months, having the ability to get close to you and look below the surface of your person. All men and women may admire you for those things I spoke of a moment ago—your charm, your beauty, or the many ways your love bubbles to the surface—but it is for me alone to know you in the most intimate ways. That privilege is the greatest gift I have ever been given; you will always be my clearest evidence of divine providence.

Your smile swallows my heart; it’s perfect punctuation for the only joy I’ve known to truly be contagious. You effortlessly season all your words with grace, but that’s because you bring them forth from the overflowing storehouses of love I’ve seen inside your heart. You’re incredibly delicate, softening my heart with a gentle touch and tender voice. At the same time you’re a refuge of strength where I seek restoration and renewal for my soul.

You’re my famous love, my one and only home.

You’re my sun on every hoped-for horizon, the fruit of blessing that I survive on. You’re all the places I wish to travel to, and the renewal of every dream I had resigned before I met you.

You know I have a lot to learn about life and living, but in my twenty-three years I’ve learned one important truth: True love is eternal because it proceeds from God. Dearest Whitney, I look forward (with the greatest faith, hope, and love) to sharing in eternity with you.


(And if all this has been too wordy and I’ve somewhere missed the mark then let me simply say: I want to get a house with you, and have kids with you, and love you no matter what our future holds.)”

another love.







couldn’t choose a favorite. any way you flip it she is a muse:







a love letter written by franz kafka:

“i belong to you; there is really no other way of expressing it, and that is not strong enough.

how could i, fool that i am, go on sitting in my office, or here at home, instead of leaping onto a train with my eyes shut and opening them only when i am with you.”


and we’ll let james joyce take us out:

“You are my only love.

You have me completely in your power.

I know and feel that if I am to write anything fine and noble in the future I shall do so only by listening at the doors of your heart.

I would like to go through life side by side with you, telling you more and more until we grew to be one being together until the hour should come for us to die.”

whit and drew, so happy for you. may your hearts always be filled with each other. much love, kam