Thursday

I felt it shelter to speak to you.

We are floating in a seemingly endless sea. But it is always so tranquil wherever you are, and wherever I am when I’m with you. Warm air. Breathing fogs. Dragonflies. Silent understandings. Interlocking fingers. One hundred months, darling, and still so many more to go.

Tuesday has been beautiful, and all of a sudden, everything was pleasant. 

(Title quote from letters of Emily Dickinson, January 1878)