Donde pongo el ojo pongo la bala.
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Remembering Tonight

Tonight, driving home through the dark suburban streets, brightened with the colorful Christmas lights and decorations. Windows down, cool, damp Florida night wind weaving through my hair. George holding my hand. My chest feeling so very full of contentment, a feeling akin to a deep breath after a long workout. Satisfaction. Peace. Silent companionship.

These are the moments I want to commit to memory. Not the monumental events, necessarily. Not those few days that you tire everyone with by recounting them over and over in your old age. Just these every-day days that life is peppered with.

“He drove us home, and we held hands. It smelled clean and fresh and slightly swampy.You could hear crickets and alligators on the sides of the road, even over the music.”

Those are the things that make my heart burst.