it's our anniversary, can you believe it? and while i'd like to be cool and write a whole separate thing here for you about it, i have an actual job to do today, so i'm just snipping and pasting what i said to her this morning, here for the world to see. for the world to see how much i love her.

remember when you peeked around the corner that first night, leaving lukewarm, but with a little bit of wonder left?

remember that second time, after exchanging thoughts, after shameless online flirting, after blushing and warm fuzzies and witty words shot out through a sea of wires--the hurt leg, the girls at the bar you thought i'd brought for moral support?

remember my long, black skirt and how you couldn't keep your hands off of me?

remember the alley that night, dave matthews band blaring, cars lined up on the street behind us as we 'fumbled and touched' each other, navigating each other's bodies for the first time?

how tempting it was to stay the night and how delicious to wait, to wonder, to want?

remember, the first all nighter, the giving in (not all the way, at first) and the black underwear i kept on to keep from misbehaving? remember me twisting and squirming for more?

remember the fireworks display--i can still feel the newness of you--watched from a friend's rooftop, your frantic effort to get back from another engagement, curious about the new girl you had your eyes on?

a trip to tilden park to watch the city twinkle for the first time?

remember the indian rock surprise? the dusks we spent there sitting close, the sunset reflected in our eyes?

remember how instantly and constantly we connected, that we connect still, our chemistry setting a new standard, sparks flying everywhere?

remember the deep breath, the long pause at hayes and franklin, where we sat and watched the cars parade by, your arms enfolding me in an embrace that's never left?

and what about all those nights we spent knee to knee in the gretels' house, shrouded in candlelight, telling secrets, giggling and talking and sharing?

bubble baths.

morning rides to ashby bart.

endless email exchanges.

an early-on introduction to my mom and j. (didn't her plate say, "guud lay?"

playing house in san rafael. those long, beautiful rides into work together, watching the sunrise as we crossed the richmond bridge--how much bigger our eyes always are than our stomachs.

W H E E L

O F

F O R T U N E

family gatherings--how do those italians fit so much food on the table?! so much love so much intensity--i love each of yours as if they were mine.

and who could forget the softball, watching you is always the easy part. i feel so proud and so relaxed. it's one of the times i feel most sharply that you are my family, that you are my future.

god, and the fights!! there have been plenty. but looking back, i see how far we've come and how under it all, the love resonates, binds us together, keeps us here trying against all odds.

remember the first time you painted my nails? how i cried like a baby while listening to sweet songs and how you didn't think i was crazy, you just understood? how i didn't have to say a word?

what about the trips to del mar? adventures in bourbon street bathrooms, riding space mountain to our hearts' content, walking on the beach to grab a latte and the paper, lazy, agenda less afternoons.

as i play back this movie reel of my memory, i realize how much has happened in this time, this year to the day of our life, thus far, together. sifting through words we've shared and images i have of us, i'm even more sure it's you i love. it's you i want. it's you who makes my heart skip and sink and soar. i know how hard it's been sometimes, but looking back, i also know how hard it would be without you. my sunrise. my sunset. my dusk and my dawn. i want you beside me for the good stuff, but i especially want you when i'm struggling, because i know you're made of the best stuff and because i've seen your heart, because i've seen you at your best and your worst, because we've been brave enough to sit in a room, naked, together and just try.

one year later, cookie, and i'd pick you all over again.

June 13, 2002