happy anniversary darling Your singing is like the subtle glow from the inviting moon that sits upon the surface layer of the ocean, taking me back to when I'd run through the sand at Bondi in the middle of December, carefree and barefoot with my mind buzzing from the alcohol or the pot. Memories of the past forge together with memories of the present and future, sounds and fragments, shapes and polaroids of where we've been and where we're going hang upon your harmonies as they hit my ears in the most beautiful way. I don't tell you how lucky I am often, but I should, I need to. I tend to focus on what's wrong or what general worries weigh heavy in my head when I know I should be telling you how stunning you look fresh in the morning or during a shave when I catch you as I'm walking down the hallway with Rocky who is fast asleep on my shoulder. The moments that we don't speak of, those small, everyday moments where you're in the kitchen and our eyes meet, no words exchanged, are the moments we should be taking in like the summer air on Fire Island. They're the ones that are easily forgotten because they come and go and we expect them to remain, and with you I know they will, but in the event that they're erased forever, we deserve to cast light upon them. I'd prefer you doing so with your voice, my selfish symphony from your lips.