Your mother wrote me a thank you note

...about Christmas eve
and the first night that it felt like I was becoming
a part
of your family
when we sat in the back of your parents SUV
and held hands
like we were teenagers
as your father drove us to church.

Your mother thanked me 
in her note
for the gifts
the Tunisian mug
the one your father recognized
and the turquoise earrings that you said were understated
and that she said would match 
the jewelry she already has
and it made me feel
like I've known them for longer
than the two and a half
times
we've met -

half because of the surprise visit
to their home
after I had just gotten off a plane 
from Texas
and with no jet lag
but hours of plane on me
I felt 

inadequate

fixed my makeup and hair, and you 
you didn't seem to think 
that any of that mattered

but I wanted that first impression

to be better than 
the jeans I wear when I'm making my way through airports
because they're comfortable
or my red converse sneakers
which we bought 
at the saddest mall I've ever seen 
somewhere on the outskirts of Austin.

The card was written in the hand of a woman
confident in her thank you notes
her script swift
and easy
like she had been doing this all her life
and she probably has

and I

I've never written a thank you note 
in my life

and suddenly I am taken by this urge
to write your mother
a note of my own

not to thank her for the William Sonoma ginger cookies
or the ring from Italy
or the invitation 
to join the three of you
for Christmas eve mass and a wedding anniversary dinner

my note would be far shorter
than the card filled from top to bottom
that she gave to you to give to me

my note would be
only 
four words

four simple words that are so much more
than four simple words:

thank you for him.