Say that you'll stay, forever and a day.

I do remember you as the girl I met at the coffee shop and played chess with.

I remember you as the girl I met again at Jimmy Johns.

I remember you as the girl I had champagne with in my basement bedroom.

I remember you as the girl I tried to forget, but couldn’t as a scent would waft through the air on my bike and remind me of you.

I remember riding our bikes to the cider mill, and having breakfast with you before I left for my first triathlon.

I remember the exact moment I fell in love with you.

I remember us sitting on the cliffs of the Pacific, poetically penniless, gazing out into the infinite as the sun fell below the horizon.

I remember asking my Mom for her Grandma’s ring to give to you, and I remember your face when I took it out of my pocket.

I remember the sun coming through the clouds and in through the stained glass as we were saying our vows.

I remember you as the girl I hear in music, and smell in the air. See in my dreams, and hold in my sleep.

I remember you as the girl who pushes me, every day, to be better than I am. Gives me a direction to drive in, and a place to come back to that I can call home.

I love you L, and I hope that you know it, especially when we don’t see each other for days on end. I think of you every time I taste a ravioli, or cook a medium rib eye. I hope for a message from you every time I look at my phone, and smile each time there is one.

I try to creep into the apartment and into bed, trying not to wake you but secretly hoping that I drop something and you rouse, so I can hear your voice for a fleeting moment before I go to sleep.

I long to hear the seemingly boring stories of your days. I hang on every moment as you tell me about dysfunctional printers, and useless coworkers. Lunches with R, and smoke breaks with no cigarettes. I crave news of our families and friends. Of sunburns and popcorn dinners. You keep me connected to the world that I miss out on while I’m trapped in my, “bomb shelter.”

It’s been a long and stressful week, possibly the most of both that I’ve had in my professional life. The only thing that has kept me getting up each morning is the touch of your skin and the sound of your breathing next to me each night.

They say the book of love is long and boring, let’s keep ours here.

Because I love when you write to me, and you can write me anything.