Like a Thought Process

I came here to make you smile. There’s something about the way you smile that knocks years off my bones and turns me into a reckless teenager again — the kind that forgets composure and just stares. You really need to see it from my side. Thirteen thousand, six hundred and forty seven feels like an absurdly big number when you say it out loud, yet I still find myself grateful for every single hour I’ve been allowed to place you inside of. And somehow, in the middle of all that counting and remembering, the simplest truth keeps repeating itself without effort: I love you like a mad thing. If God is not wonderful, then nothing else deserves the title, because loving you has felt like proof that wonder still exists. I think about you and end up asking questions that have no business needing answers. Where did you come from, honestly? How does someone just arrive and rearrange another person’s entire sense of certainty like this? My Sunflower, understand this — I love you. And if that feel...