1 May 2020
1 May 2020

I imagine remembering…

Los Angeles. We burst into In-N-Out twenty minutes after our oceanside sushi and champagne, and we sat there for the rest of the evening ranking all the burgers on the menu by the likelihood that they’d appear in a John Green novel.

New York. You pulled me into a slow dance in the middle of Sixth Avenue at 2 A.M. You said you felt silly. We’ll be silly together then, I said. You figured out which song I was dancing to by my footsteps, and we decided that would be our song.

Seoul. I got us lost on the subway. Three times. “I’m always right,” you said, and I relented, as much to your smiling eyes as your still-flawless track record.

Paris. Most of my memories are of me deciphering restaurant menus and you pointing out the ones you thought I’d like. I learned then to trust your taste, and you learned there to trust my napkin arithmetic.

Belgium. I explained to you the molecular chemistry of the taste of cacao in between you offering me bites from our uncomfortably large box of souvenir chocolates. I still can’t believe we finished it that weekend.

Hong Kong. We stayed up all night, and slept in all day. The only time we almost missed a flight. You made me promise never to do that again, and I said I won’t ever.

Bergamo. I don’t even have to tell you this one.

Santorini. I boldly proclaimed that we’d only bring a film camera but lost the roll of film on the flight (you were right, again). You joked that I should just draw us instead, and I reminded you that I can’t draw faces. We borrowed our host’s Polaroid for two pictures, one for your wall, and one in my wallet. You gave me the one where you thought you looked prettier. I still can’t really tell.

London. I’d forgotten my umbrella the one day it rained. But the night felt right. A kiss in the pouring rain, the English air holding us in that moment.

And here, until then.

And here, to stay.