Pushing through fog, this morning, I made my way through the city streets awash in memories of early morning school bus rides, of the half awake showering and dressing and gathering of books, of overly sweet coffee from the local 7-11.

And I thought of my girl, there with me in my hometown--of her face illuminated by the dance of a candle's light, a luxurious dinner we could afford for a night, exchanging glances I can only hope we will have for a lifetime.

There have been foggy moments in this love--tough questions that had to be answered, conversations we dreaded to have. It's always been this way, this honest, this real.

And when the fog clears, I find I'm in a meadow, flush with spring flowers, harboring treasures we've yet to discover. And at the end of the day and when I open my eyes, when she is near me all the questions seem to have an answer and I know that I'll do what I can to keep this love alive, to make her happy, to build with her and grow with her and shelter myself in her arms.

January 4, 2002