I will remember the way the heat turned to snow so quickly
before we had time to change our socks.
I’ll remember the way we drank champagne when the world felt flat and unrecognizable
We’d celebrate the smaller moments that were close enough to understand
Finishing a week of work, cleaning the oven range, and readying winter blankets for the bed
I will remember the way you took care of the hard things
And it always felt like a surprise
I will remember the lights across the river and the way we swam naked in the hot springs after eating cheeseburgers in the dark
and the way we danced in the van, being patient with the sadness, understanding that it’s possible to feel everything all at once.
I will remember the sun and the sweat and the tears and the words.