Love Letter #1

Assalamualaikum,

Dear my future imam,

As you would have known, I borrowed your left rib.
And you should know that I have no intention of giving it back to you.
Likewise, I hope I can own your heart.
And I hope that I will never have to return it to you.

Dear my future teacher who will indefatigably teach me the lessons of life,

I don't know how to cook very well. We may end up dining at a restaurant two or three times a week, thanks to my super hectic schedule and pure laziness. Even if I manage to cook, I may end up putting extra salt in the dishes that I prepare. And the cakes are most probably going to be overcooked. And there is a fat chance that I don't even know the name of the delicacies that I cook. Can it get any worse? Yes. The coffee that you will ask me to prepare for you during breakfast, it may not cater your taste buds.  I may not become the best chef in town. Or serve a signature dish that will make you proud. But, I promise that I won't stop trying. I will try to spend some time to make new dishes, tho I may constantly take a peek at the recipe which I have googled earlier. I will not allow you to go to bed with an empty stomach, tho we may not be talking the whole day as I sulk because you refuse to let me buy the bag that I've been eyeing on. Most importantly, I will stuff you with lots of love until there is no empty space left in your heart.

Dear my future life and jannah partner,

I'm not a seamstress. I can't sew in a straight line. I haven't completed any sewing projects before although the textile stores have become my second home lately. I will beg you for a sewing machine and believe me, I won't stop begging until I get one. Still, I can't assure you that I will actually sew something out of it. In fact, the sewing machine will be most probably collecting dust in a corner in your home-office. I will purposely coax you to allow me to put it there as I don't want to tarnish the beautiful view of our future living room. Even though needle and thread have never been my best friend, I promise that I will sew the loosen buttons of your shirts. But for the damaged zip, I think it is wiser to have it sent to the tailor. Most importantly, I promise that I will help you to sew the shattered dreams of yours (as long as it doesn't involve getting yourself a new wifey!).

Dear my future caretaker and personal body guard,

I am neither a nurse nor a doctor. I can't even pronounce the names of the medicine correctly. I will not be able to differentiate between the fever pills and the flu pills. The only physical wound that I will be able to take care of is papercut. Nothing more, nothing less. But I promise to put your health as my prime concern. I will make (or get) you a bowl(s) of chicken porridge whenever you're not feeling well. I will take or drag you to the clinic. Most importantly, I will take care of your heart. I will never let it break into smithereens. In fact, I will never allow it to break at all.

Dear the future king of my heart,

I am not a princess. And I am not a beauty pageant. I don't walk and talk like one. I can't even wave my hand like one. I don't have a mesmerizing smile or long silky hair that will melt your heart. And knowing how awful my look can be in the morning, I will try not to mind if you decide to wake up on the other side of the bed. But I can promise you that I will mind my manners. I will keep our little secrets. I will not disclose our private and personal matters to public. I will not shout our problems to the whole world. I will take care of your dignity. I will take care of my dignity. And I will take of our future family's dignity. Most importantly, I will treat you like a king and put you before any other things.

Dear my future husband,

Yes, I am far from perfection. I have a gazillion flaws that if I decide to list them down, you may need to sacrifice your sleep for seven nights. Yes, no kidding. Because I am more than just a normal damsel in distress. I am a lost cause.

I just hope and wish that you will accept me the way I am. My flaws. My bads. My downs. My foolishness. My stupid sulks. My inability to stay composed. My tears that will shamelessly roll down on my cheeks. My ridiculous ideas. My spontaneous acts. My silly over-thinking behaviour. My jealousy. My impulsive decisions. My shopping habits. My long wishlist that doesn't need to be fulfilled. My heart. My endless love.

In return, I will accept every single thing about you. I will not judge you based on your past. I will cherish our future.

Dear Mohd Redzuan Mohd Zin,

Will you allow me to wake you up at night so that we can perform qiamullail together? Will you listen to me as I recite the Testimony of Faith and correct my mispronunciations? Will you bring me to Mecca? Will you educate me on deen? Will you take care of my aurah?
In short, will you take my hand and lead me to His jannah?

Much love,
Siti Aqilah Abdul Rahim,
Your future wife (in shaa Allah).

p/s : Now that I have re-read this, it started to sound like a proposal, especially the last bit. Gulp!