Roice's Graduation.

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Welcome to "the engines of my love," a regular review of why I love you, Martha Ellyn Sharp Nelson, and no other woman.

I love you because you came up to Austin for Roice's Graduation. Rob and I got up, got lost, and got to the Institute Building 20 minutes after nine, only to find out church didn't start until 10:00. We played some games in the game room: ping pong; soccer; and chess. The Mills from Westlake Ward were at church, and had come up to see their daughter Heather graduate. It was a good service and we were able to sit in as Kristina was set apart as Relief Society Secretary. Rob behaved himself reasonably well.

As you know, we got to the center where the graduation was before you and Melanie. It was hard to know where the best place to sit was, but I think it turned out pretty good to be where we could watch Roice come into the stadium and go up the stairs after the ceremony. I am as proud as you are of his accomplishments. It is special to have a son who has dedicated his efforts to doing so well academically. I am sorry you and Rob had words, and I encourage you to realize how much he needs you.

It was nice to go out to dinner at Chile's together. I felt taken advantage of in regards to the bill, but I guess it has been my role for years to be the financial victim and that won't change overnight. It was nice to look into your eyes and to see your beautiful form before me at the table. I'm sorry you felt I was staring at you. I was trying to enjoy the moment, the conversation, and to soak everything in. Guess it is my turn to say to you how absolutely clueless you must be in regards to how much I love you.

I'm interested in sharing why I love you. I know how important the written word is to you, and if you ever feel neglected, ignored, or unloved, and would like an up-to-date bound copy of these lovelets or any subset of these lovelets for any purpose you might have come to mind, please tell me or e-mail your request to rnelson@walden3d.com with the request 'lovelet update.'

With all my love,
Roice

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Copyright © 1997 H. Roice Nelson, Jr.