It is December. I can't believe it came so fast.
I can barely remember some of the events that happened in December, but I love it all the same.
We are in your grandmother's kitchen. John Mayer is playing in my headphones, and your hands are in mine. "I'm going to teach you how to slow dance." I am overjoyed, but a little scared. I'm not at all for dancing, but you are patient. I keep stepping on your toes and I'm clumsy. But this is amazing. You make every fantasy a reality.
It is a few days before Christmas, now. It is time to exchange our Christmas gifts. I've put a lot of work into mine, but I am so excited to see what you've gotten me. The first gift is a small paper cube with pictures of us on each side. It is so well-thought out and it makes me really happy to know you cherish every memory as I do. The second gift is neatly wrapped and feels like plastic. I'm curious, and I rip off the paper gently. A pair of headphones is revealed, white with green rims. I am beaming.
We have a three-day weekend.
I am in the car with you, enjoying the music, excited for the adventure awaiting us. I've planned a beach day. It's beginning to be freezing temperatures, but this weekend is practically scorching compared to the weather we have had lately. I've got a nice green knapsack packed with cheese, crackers, bread, and all other kinds of stuff for a nice picnic on the beach. Except, you've changed the plans. Not wanting to be selfish, I sit in the car, expressionless, and accept the change of plans, although inside I want to burst into tears. We head into Ft. Pickens with your grandparents, and in the car I remain quiet and pissed. Even though I don't do well in hiding it, I'm doing the best I can, although you've already sensed something is wrong. We hop on the bikes and start to ride to the fort. I'm slowly beginning to fade from my angry mood, but it's still there. The air feels warm on my shoulders and face as I follow you on the bike. Thes