We sat in a café, drinking coffees far too large for our faces, but fitting for our eyes. You gave me the bigger half of that chocolate chip cookie, too. Even in the beginning, you were a candy-cane-Christmas-morning kind of sweet. You opened the passenger door of your car on our first date, in that tan and turquoise dress, you helped me into your Xterra, and I felt the electricity exchange between our fingertips.
When I thought I would never find love again (because don’t we all feel that way when we lose our first love?), I wound up falling in love a second time with a man that was far and above anything that I ever thought I could find or deserve. Within the first six months, I knew I was head over heels for him, and I knew that, this is what love is supposed to feel like.
In exactly two weeks, I will be turning 26. I have this habit of always doing a self-reflection of sorts right before my birthday. Analyzing what I’ve learned over the last year – or just reliving past shenanigans. That sort of thing. So apart from frantically worrying about what kind of healthcare I will receive now that I know longer can be on my parents’, I bestow upon you a list of things that I have learned over this past year.
I think I will make my home in the backbone of damp soil, misty with river reflections and carmine bricks. Stacked in the heart of a coral valley, I will spend my mornings brewing Nantucket coffee grounds, stirring in a tad too much sugar. Brown, not white. I love the way brown sugar crystallizes. Like a Connecticut sun on autumn leaves.