The best year
Magda, ever the sentimentalist, can’t remember our first date, but she did save her bride’s bouquet from our modest little civil ceremony one year ago this morning. For the last year we’ve managed to keep the brittle precious thing out of the hands of the destructor.
Here’s what the same flowers looked like one year ago, in my love’s hands and face:
Happy anniversary, Honey. Thank you for this year.
