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Dear Caroline,

Today is the first Sunday in forever that we haven’t been together. It’s only the second Sunday we’ve ever missed. But family is important and I’m glad you got to go, even if it was last minute. If anyone needed a mini vacation to clear their head, it’s you. Right now. So breathe in that beautiful balmy sunshine. Kiss and hug your family members.

I’ll be right here when you return.

Having time to think, I’ve spent most of today remembering last Sunday. I live for Sundays. The one day that’s just you and me, if only for a couple of hours.

Last Sunday. The sunset walk on the waterfront. Smiling and pointing at the old buildings, telling stories about our lives. Places we’ve gone, people we’ve met, where we should go from here. How chilly it was by the water. How the breeze coming off of the sound always smells and feels different than the ocean breeze, although they’re only separated by a mile or two. The sound of my heels clacking on the sidewalk. The difference in our height that has never affected our ability to hold hands or walk comfortably next to each other.

The oranges and pinks that faded seamlessly into the blues and purples and blacks of the water until we couldn’t tell where the sky stopped and the earth began.

beaufort-waterfront-ches-blackWatching the pelicans dive and the ducks float by on the still water. Picking out which boats and yachts and sailboats we wanted if we had a million dollars. Where we’d go and what we’d see. Watching you climb up and stand, leaning over the rail, to peer into someone’s kitchen.

Dinner. Table by the window. Laughing about the artificial candles and wondering why no one would trust us with fire. I stand next to you all the time and I’ve yet to get burned.

Ordering food and giggling, watching you figure out how to take a bite of your monstrosity of a cheeseburger. Feeding you bits of my mashed potatoes. Yukon Gold. Truffle fries. Grinning, ordering my steak well-done, always to your good-natured dismay.

Holding hands walking back to the car. Coffee. Teaching you about the art of being a coffee snob and showing you what you’ve been missing, the way you open my eyes to new experiences and feelings every time.

Home. Back to your apartment. Where loving you is always so sweet and fulfilling. Lying there, together, brushing your hair from your face, kissing your cheeks, and unable to stop smiling. Ever, when I’m around you. Gazing into your eyes, answering all your questions with mine.

Yes. The answer has always been yes.

Love,

Stacy

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