those friday nights where we stay in and cook and watch episodes of friends and fall asleep talking. the piano man in washington square. handsewn moccasins, long-sought and found by surprise the morning of my twenty ninth birthday. that cheery cafe on 116th street with the dark roast and buttery baklava. dating my husband at the opera. our treehouse awash in golden sunshine. noticing the return of birdsong. the ceremony in common days.