I arrived just before kickoff to a house full of people I didn’t know, and when I saw you in the driveway it was immediately obvious you were the star – that there was something about your orbit that made people want to be in it. Your moon was little M_ - so happy, giggling and smiling, cupcake-frosting-nosed. Even when pouting she couldn’t hide how happy she was – how good her life is and how satisfied you make her.
You were the most beautiful person in a house full of beautiful people, and after we’d met and talked just a bit I couldn’t wait for the next time. A bit later I met another girl who introduced herself as a muse, and after exploring the idea a bit – asking whether she inspired anyone or any genre in particular, had she maybe had a screenplay written for her – I said, just to be funny, that I was off to write some poetry. And I found myself just minutes later having another perfect conversation with you as your daughter slept in your lap.Sure, I romanticize moments. I remember as best I can but then sometimes knowingly take the events and the contexts and recreate, re-engineer feelings to create potential. Today, though, I didn’t need to do that; there was nothing I would have done differently or said differently. There wasn’t anything to gain, romantically. You had someone, M_’s father, waiting at home for you both, so today I was just a sailor and under-employed software architect having a good conversation with a beautiful and fascinating girl. And for me, having not actually acknowledged or celebrated the new year when it came, offshore somewhere on my way north from Cabo, something like that is enough to build a year upon.
