Sjanneke had me out to her place for fondue and beers tonight. She texted me the big players of the intended spread earlier in the afternoon, and it made my fluorescent office light up in Technicolor. When people make food for me, it is an Army blanket around the shoulders of my quaking, nervous little heart. It is when I feel the most safe.
I quizzed her about her one year wedding anniversary a few weeks back, hoping to extract a pithy relationship advice nugget or funny anecdote about what marriage in its infancy looks like. She said she is incredibly content, secure, and happy, which is wonderful, punchline or not.