Taking stock of a year:
This one will last forever. The nights with you, that is. First huddled over heartbreak and hamburgers in the coldest, worst restaurant we ever visited together. Plenty of spins after that -- me turning in the same wrong direction, again, again -- but every place seemed to settle back at you.
This day last year, it was just a twinkling, a want-to-write-you-back-now-but-why. But this year I know: I hope every whirl around this axis is with you.