I still have all the letters he wrote me, though I haven't read any of them in twenty years. A box full of memories, untouched but still precious. For now, though, I lock the memories in my heart...
...the little slip on the ice that led to holding hands for the first time.
...the walk at the glacier and phone call to his mother that we called our first date.
...him selling his camera to buy my plane ticket to visit him at school.
...the way he would run to open the gate for me when he heard me driving up the road.
...how he always eats whatever I cook, goes to see whichever movie I want to see, and listens to my monologs about whatever's on my mind.
...how he schlepped a porcelaine tea service for eight on his back through the streets of Zurich because 1) I wanted the tea set for Mom and 2) We might never be back in Zurich again, so we might as well look around while we had the chance.
...how he took me, 6 months pregnant, into the heart of Brussels in short sleeves in sub-freezing temperatures, because I insisted I wanted a Belgian waffle.
...the way he would stop at the Tsevie corner so I could hop out for fresh grilled corn, even though dark was approaching and he wanted to get home.
...the way he never complains about having to work full time, or even overtime, to allow me to be home with the kids.
...his wisdom in choosing his words.
...and so many more memories, more than two decades worth.
I love you more than ever.
