A letter to my future eternal bae

This poem isn't for me, or for you, it's for HER, my future wife:

I'm waiting for the day when I can kneel with somebody, somewhere sacred and say what I've always wanted to.
Things like "I'm glad I waited for you." And say some other things that can't be said.
I'll be able to rest from "the others" and look back like an old person and throw out a bunch of "I remembers."
Then I can look forward to the point where my eyes won't be able to see and my mind still struggles to grasp
and we can let that marinate in both of our minds for as long as it takes us.
I still can't believe I'll be with her forever and she'll believe we're too good to be true.
We'll make banana pancakes and do other things white people in Hawaii sing about.
Then I'll be embarrassed because not every love poem I ever wrote was about you and not every kiss I gave was to you.
 But you'll tell me it's alright and that I worry too much and that we've both hiked that clumsy uphill trail to "here."
And we'll live in the "here" in silence for a bit and then make some eye contact and show smiles to each other that hold so much more meaning than anyone else could ever understand.
I don't know how we'll meet, or if we've met, but I can confidently show you this poem, because this one is for YOU.
And its about time, and I'm 18, and I'm getting a call to 2 years of my life in just over two weeks.
Man, I need to relish in the fact that I can only say that poetic line for about 6 more days.
Know I've been praying for you for many years, and every time it hits me that you are alive on this earth it brings a buoyant smile to the corners of my lips.
I've wondered so much about you, and I can't wait to know you. Or do I know you already?
Either way you'll amaze me still. And I've been praying for us to become prepared for "us" for a long time.
And all I've done and have been doing has been a monument for my Dad, my Mom, you, me, our future, and the future of our little half-me's and half-you's.
Please be patient with me when I become too excited with what I have to say and it doesn't seem to come out right.
I'm working on it.
You'll get my humor and realize how hilarious I really am, and how the small things can be enjoyed so much.
We'll both seethe in jealously over each other's pearly whites.
And I know that line does seem a bit out of place.
I see us slow dancing in the kitchen to our music.
I see us nuzzled up after a hard day of work and an evening to relax with.
Because hard work is happiness and evenings are meant to be enjoyed.
And this poem is to be continued...