We are big. Something huge. I’m not sure what conspired to bring us together, and it scares me to think off all the small things that could have so easily gone another way. It feels like everything happened to lead to you. We are living our love story and in my autopilot-for-safety mode I find myself in it’s easy to fall into a lull of ease. But you are my true and only and great love story. The lake, your shirt, our first night at F, the fact that I couldn’t let you go even when I thought that’s what I needed, the ocean and the driveway and the sandwich. You calling me baby for the first time. All of the songs. Every single glance, and every single touch. I always thought these feelings were hyperbolic, that I’d only have them in the story I used to be able to write as I lived, but now they are here. And they’re real. And I guess what I’m trying to say- I love you.