Catherine,

I thought I would start these right away, these words of desperation. Actually that sounds too self pitying, desperation was the wrong choice of word. Maybe I should call the letters my hymn to you, but then again maybe they won't be that good. As good as you deserve.

So you left me at the Gate twenty minutes ago. I know you are heading back towards work now as I, in turn, head to my work. Why do I have to be going away from you? Is it too early to mention that I miss you? I thought I would deal with it better than this, twenty minutes is rather a pathetic amount of time to fall apart without you.

Do you see what you've done to me?

Okay, I'm not entirely blameless in this, hence I am surprising you with these letters. I am surprising you aren't I?

I was going to email you now, as I look around there are many people typing away. I wonder what they write? There is a man my age sitting opposite me, I wonder if he is inputing data, closing a deal, or writing his wife that he loves her. I hope he's writing to his wife, I hope he has someone to love. Anyway, I decided against emails, decided that you deserved more. Or maybe I'm writing letters for selfish reasons... Maybe I just want to send these to our home so that you might read them in private, and think of me?

So I bought this paper, and I'm writing with my favourite pen, to my favourite girl (and you though I couldn't do corny?). I shall write to you often, or rather that is my intention. But there will be work to do, that is, after all, why we are apart. I'm sorry that we are, I hope you know that. I hope you know that I am more torn by this decision than by any in my life. But it is the right thing, isn't it?

Hopefully I will be as successful, if that's the appropriate word, as you told me I would be. Hopefully I shall be home soon.

It occurs to me that what I'm writing shouldn't qualify as a genuine love letter, but incase you can't tell, that is what I shall be writing to you. You can judge whether my attempts are worthy or not.

So I'll finish this by telling you I love you, but then you know that. So I'll finish by thanking you for wearing perfume today, and for holding me a little too long as we said goodbye. You left the smell of your perfume on me, and it makes me feel a little less alone. I can't touch or taste you, but for a while your intoxicating scent will linger - you are here with me. Always.

Gil

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2.

Darling,

Before I go any further I should explain the use of 'darling', I've never called you that before, never had the inclination to. But it feels like the word to use when writing to you like this. When writing to my beautiful wife. My pen slips so easily over the page to call you darling, my darling wife. Can you hear me saying those words? As I write these words I'm thinking all the while, Catherine is my darling wife. Mine. The words fill my heart with the warmth that I miss now that you are away from my side. As the miles between us increase I need these words of possession to calm me, to make me smile as only you can my darling.

I'm on the plane now, and I still miss you. I promise these will become less whiney as work takes over my time. Maybe... I'm a little afraid of this actually, can I tell you this? I'm afraid of working in New York without my team. I don't doubt science, I know it will serve me and the victims well - but I doubt myself a little. It's been so long since I was not with you, or the guys, when I work. I depend so much on your voice, on your presence, I know I will turn to garner your support many times. I know I will only be met by your absence. I think you know I will be calling you often. I know what you will say, you'll laugh a little, and point me in the right direction. I know this to be true, but I will still need to hear the words - sometimes a man does.

I'm thinking about the last time I was in a plane, when we took our trip to Rome. I'm thinking how wonderful that was, how I don't remember ever feeling as peaceful than I did with you then. We'll remember that vacation forever darling, we went all the way to Italy to make a baby. And while the rememberance of that fills my heart, it constricts with the memory too. We have a baby on the way and I'm missing so much. Tomorrow you will be thirteen weeks into your pregnancy, and I will not see you all week. I will miss you and our baby all week, and I will miss Lindsey. I can talk to you and Linds, and I will every day, but I am severing all contact with our baby during this time apart. I don't know what to do with my feelings about that, I'm sorry. If I were in my car now I would be turning round and driving back to you, I just want to touch you to reassure myself you are real.

Okay I need to stop this now, I'm sure this must be making you sad, and that's never what I want to do. But I can tell you anything I know that, and that's what I'm doing Cath. When I land and I've had some sleep I'll write happier words, I promise.

I love you my darling,

Gil

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3.

My darling Catherine

I can't sleep without you, are you sleeping? I hope so. I'm not yet accustomed to sleeping at night, and I'll never be accustomed to an absence of you in my bed.

This time I want to write words that will make you smile rather than my previous effort which was rather on the mournful side.

I wonder if you can have letter sex? Did that make you laugh? Well people have phone sex all the time, or so I'm told... If I write to you about wanting to touch you, does that make my words pornography or simple fun between the two of us? I'm not sure it will work, I'll call you later...

But I do want to write about you and me, and how much I miss you. I didn't know it was possible to miss another person this much, my darling. I'm not sure whether my senses are playing tricks on me, but I can still smell you on my skin. I'm sure of it, I don't care if they are playing tricks, it makes me believe you are near. I can smell that cream you wear, the cream I watch you rub into your body every day. The cream that you love for me to rub into your shoulders, your arms, your legs, your breasts. It should become common place, it's part of your daily routine and you pay it no heed. Except when I persuade you that I have magic hands, I live for those moments. The gift of your body, your skin, and sinew moulding as my finger tips dictate. I love mapping the length of your arms, counting your freckles, drowning in the intimacy of our connection. Think of me when you next put the cream on your body, imagine my hands on your body, my lips on your skin.

As much as I like where I'm going with that line of thought, I should stop or I will never get to sleep tonight. And I do need to sleep, I need to be at my best for this job. But I'll talk to you about it later, I need to hear your voice when I talk through my theories. Again I'm being selfish, masking my desire to listen to you talk as a way to help with my work. I'm a man of simple tastes after all.

I'll go to sleep now, thinking of you as always. Wondering if Linds misses my stories, my goodnight kisses. Tell her I miss her, that I'm going to write to her too, first chance I get. Tell our other baby that I think of them all the time, that I miss him or her very much. It's funny that you can miss someone you've never met, never touched. But put your hand low on your belly and tell our little one that daddy loves them, and that he'll be home soon.

Gil

I forgot to tell my wife - my beautiful, darling wife - that I love her. I do, I'll be back with you soon sweetheart.

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4.

Catherine,

darling this will be a shorter hymn to your beauty than usual... I want to send these letters to you, so I need to finish this and actually mail them. So... Should I use my usual line again?

I miss you.

It was so good to talk you earlier, it seems like such a long time since I last saw you when actually I've been gone from our home for just three days. Have you changed anything? You do know Lindsey is under strict instructions to protect my collection of butterflies, our daughter is watching you Cath.

I just wanted to put my pen on the paper once more and tell you that I love more than I could ever tell you with words. I love you more than I could ever tell with my body. I love you more than is entirely reasonable, but it's why I breathe. Why I live.

Always darling,

Gil.