happy

I could hear his heartbeat, with my head on his chest, watching Veronica Mars. The gentle scents of fresh paint and reheated stewed okra mingled in the air. . . . Whose life is this? So far away from where I was a year ago. Everything is different from two years ago. But this is how we spent our Sunday-- one year and 363 days after the Sunday we first met-- after we painted our new bookcase.

For all my falling apart lately, some days our life feels like a movie montage or a commercial for a home improvement store. How do I look playing one half of a Young and Happy Couple? I've been experimenting with new ways to braid my hair.

~b

364 days

“Congratulations!”
“Congratulations??”

We had falafel sandwiches in the same place where we first met each other. I made a mess, same as the first time. We call it our first date, start counting from that day, divide our lives into Before Falafel and After. I don’t know where we’d be if we hadn’t met each other.

“I’d probably still be trying to bang every girl on the Lower East Side.”
“And I’d probably be dating a banker.”
“But you wouldn’t be happy.”
“That is probably true.”

It wasn’t a glamorous day, just a really, really good one. They’re mostly good, lately.

~beatrix

remember the time

“Did Serge come?”
“No. It’s his anniversary with his girlfriend.”

“Do people really celebrate dating anniversaries?” I mumbled it, but I couldn’t help saying it.
“Yeah. I guess,” I think only Ted heard.
“But how do you know when you’re gonna need to remember it? I mean, do you know when ours would be? . . . Oh. . . Easter. . . .”
“April 12.”
“You remember?”
“I had a thing that day.”
“Well, it’s the same day as my anniversary with my high school boyfriend. So I can remember it now.”
“I’m glad it was me you met that day.”
“Why?”
“ I don’t know. You might have ended up with someone else.”

~beatrix