Our anniversary. I draw from the shelf the shoebox with the cards. On top lies the one I picked, months back, to give on this good day.
I read its words, and freeze, surprised.
This is not what I want to say at all. I want neither for us to get lost anywhere anymore, nor to dwell on the years of our past. My heart is singing the praises of today, of the moment, of the wonder of where we’ve come to, together, by now.
What I want us to revel in now is this year, unique treasure compared to all others before it—this day, as sweet as any we’ve lived together, these present steps we take together, into tomorrow. How much better, today than yesterday.
And tomorrow than today. Whatever lies forward, upward, toward ultimate tomorrow, the very “best is yet to be.”
So, I need to change, to edit, that card—or else compose another, telling what I really feel.
Ah. I think I just did!