Of all the memories of that perfect night, I loved when she smiled as I switched looking from her left eye to the other.
Her smile answered what I didn’t dare to ask, at a night where she couldn’t look prettier, and I couldn’t be more into her.
My own eyes were so full of her, and I only looked away to surprise myself when I look at her again.
The mirror in the room was well-placed, it provided distraction. It gave a natural reason to break the eye-contact once in a while.
I felt lucky, and though I try to earn what I have, she was a gift. As she blushed and smiled, as I saw on her body the effects of what she felt for me, I felt a foreign feeling.
As I alternated between staring and looking away, I also alternated between staring because I enjoyed seeing her eyes and staring purposefully.
I felt a foreign feeling of sufficiency and gratitude. Sufficiency in knowing that what I have is all I need to be happy. Gratitude in knowing that what I have was not always earned, but sometimes given.
I don’t want to label what we have, and verify if we meet that label or not. But she makes me happy to live today, and excited to be happy tomorrow.
It felt as if that moment alone could suffice to explain why life is good, despite the many terrible things. In fact, it seemed that terrible things, like death, are only terrible because they prevent moments like that one.
As I look over the pictures, I feel happy especially because I seem to make her happy (her unforgettable smile as she wore the ring).
My dear, I say to you in your absence what I have already said to you in your presence:
I am lucky to have you,
may we live long together.