Back to the basics

Days are like markers in time. Holidays are even better markers. I sat on the grass on Canada Day, feeling amazement yet again over how lives can change so much in a mere 365 days. But they do.

It's wonderful and scary all at once to marvel over where you were last year, and wonder where you will be next year.

Paul pulled me up from the grass and into the laundry room, the one where we kissed for the first time. An entirely different set of memories washed over me, feeling him kiss me and run his hands over my body in that laundry room. Listening to him whisper things to me that every girl desperately wants to hear from the one they love.

And of course the entire night is capped off with a few beer and a few too many shooters andI never do make it home. It is inevidable that I wake up in some strange bed, trying to piece together the night before. But for close to a year now, I've always felt him laying beside me in that strange bed, and know that he will piece it all together, and then he will take me home and make me soup. Now that's love.