It’s our wedding anniversary, and you are in California, 2,000 miles away from me.
Anniversaries are intangible, I know. They are just one day, just a souvenir of what time has measured out and what has gone away.
But when you are away, I am reminded of what you are to me.
You are the reason I attack the day, the reason I write. The reason I talk about myself again, with hopefulness.
You are the reason I live in the suburbs. The reason I drink red wine. The reason I once threw a tube of mascara against the wall ( I was aiming for your head).
You let me be the funny one. You value what I do.
You smile with paper skin eyes, they are the only part of you that gives your age away.
Your body still surprises me in the morning, as I turn and stretch out for something familiar. It anchors me at night, as I feel your lulling weight against my shoulder.
You understand how the world grabs hold of me, how it wrings me out like a damp cloth, how sometimes–oftentimes–it’s too much for me, too much. And you shield me from it and know when to take me away. You know when to take it away.
You also lose your keys more often than anyone I have ever met.
I’ve done good things in my life, but of them all, loving you has been the most good. And our time has been mostly good, hasn’t it? It has brought us bright mornings and tears, it has been my salvation and driven me only sometimes mad. It found me once, in deep loss and stables me, now, in possibility.
Two thousand is a lot of miles for an anniversary—but three is just a scattering of years.
Out of your window tonight, the ocean rises up to meet the sky in a convergence of blues. In our bed, across the world, your side is still made up and your pillow is cool.
When you wake up tomorrow, there will be sunlight in your room and year four will be dawning.
You are my favorite person in the world. What magic, there is, in saying that still.
We are in the infancy of loving, now. It is springtime of forever and here we are, blooming.
Even if I am far away, even if my mouth can’t find your mouth in the space of night, know that I am there. That I am more in love with you, three years later.
And, wherever I am, because of you— I am blooming.