Last year, I was lost, trying to grasp onto hope, no matter how minuscule. You were my Christmas morning, what a joy it was to wake up to you. You were a hope that God allowed to come true. You were a dash of excitement and pure bliss.

As the final days of this orbit come into view, I’m reminded of our Christmas pajamas and the sound of our slippers scuffling as we walked throughout the corridor, dancing and laughing because we made it back home, the kind that isn’t just a place. I’m reminded of our tradition of errands to prepare for our day ahead, ones spent with coffee and the warmth of one another. I think of our cozy days in and the agony of the preparation to drive home, the time when we had to part. I think of our late night coffee runs that weren’t always so much for the sake of caffeine as they were for us having a reason to spend a little more time together.

There’s something precious about how your heart matched mine. I guess these are just remnants of a discontinued time.

Featured Image By: @joyce

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