It appears we missed our anniversary yesterday, which might strike some as quite a feat, considering that even a single member of our septet recalling the significance of those particular numbers on the calendar could have sparked at least some mildly celebratory observations.
Yet our days and nights are woven together here in a way that makes each one worth reverence, and I in particular am so much more endowed with life and companionship than I've any right to be; it doesn't bear fretting over that one day out of the year should go unremarked-on for its cyclic coincidence with my arrival in this place of conjunction and wonder and partnered plenitude.
Still and all ... he kissed me and held me and made murmured apologetics a short while ago, and that brought a certain giddy sense of proper acknowledgment to my heart.
When there is a day such as the day any anniversary intends on commemorating, the perfection is in recognizing its raptural truth, not in doing so with a narrowly prescribed precision.
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