D.E.B. woke me this morning with a cup of tea, and a question: "Do you know what today is?" I racked my sleepy brain to think what on earth I had forgotten. "September 23rd?" I hazarded a guess. "No, 24 September." He smiled that gorgeous smile down at me. A mild panic started to creep in at my toes. It could not be his birthday, that is 22 August -- the same date as mine. It could not be our anniversary, that date is much in dispute as far as I am concerned. Here is my point: Do you count as your 'start date' the date you first started seeing each other, OR, the date things become 'official', OR, the first time you...well, anyway. I knew 'anniversary' was not the answer.Then the penny dropped.
I arrived in England one month ago today, to begin this new life with my D.E.B. Can it really just be a month? Feels like forever. In a good way. That "other life," that crazy, dazzling New York life, seems in many ways like a fantastic, funny, zany dream. This, however, feels very real, and now. I am still happy, and I'm still here.
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