I did some cleaning today after my doctor’s appointment. (I messed up my knee a bit a week and a half ago, went to see a doctor about it.) In the cleaning there were some flowers that Emma gave me for our demianniversary, which had gone dry and fallen apart. I took the dead flowers, threw them out, and washed the vase. As I did, I thought a bit about why we hadn’t done that before.

Part of it was that we’re just a bit slow with cleaning, with our illnesses and injuries. And part of it, for me, was not wanting to get rid of them. I didn’t want to forget what they meant, or the reason they were there. I just didn’t want to let go.

Except…

As I did that, I realized that really just didn’t matter. They were a gift to me from Emma, but… they were just a little representation of her feelings. I know, in my heart, deep inside, that she loves me. That’s what’s important to me. Now what they are, but what they represent.

But I didn’t need them to tell me that. I know that Emma loves me. And I love her.

She is a glorious creature, my sun, the fire that keeps me warm. I don’t need flowers to remind me of that. I just need to close my eyes and think of her.

I just need this: