This evening is kind of perfect. Long, busy day at work under my belt. My partner and our dog out on the porch. She’s reading, I’m working on this site. The Edison bulbs hung under the porch are on and there is a tiny cacophony of insects and birds surrounding us. The fireflies are starting to come out; fireworks in miniature in the low spots of our yard. So much has changed since I wrote my last note. So much has changed since I wrote my last essay. It’s been almost a year. My life—the big parts of my life—are almost perfect. I am not sure I could get closer to a more perfect life. Such a strange and lovely place to be.
Nothing else to write but I wanted to make sure I wrote this down. Write it down so that I may remember that on this day, I was happy.