I remember a haircut in Norwich.
I remember a party in Gypsy Hill.
I remember a flight to Milan.
I remember a boat trip, a sunset at Portofino, and a kiss at Boccadasse, nine years ago today.
I remember the bridges on Venice, a gondola ride, and the early morning train to the airport, where tears were shed.
I remember a bedsit in Dublin, an apartment in Genoa, and two apartments and a house in Brussels.
I remember kneeling on a rock in Sardinia, waiting for an answer.
I remember your “yes”.
I remember your “si” on a hot afternoon the following June, surrounded by family and friends.
I remember the births of our two daughters, so different from each other.
I remember the four of us in an embrace, cheek to cheek to cheek to cheek, laughing, only yesterday.
I remember, and I’m grateful, and hopeful, and happy.