There was a clunk-clunk at the front of our house, the sound of the mailman making his mark. I pulled open the front door and stepped into the salty air. Reaching into our rusty black box, I retracted three envelopes—one a washy lavender square addressed to a Mr. & Mrs. Nate Driver. And in that moment, enveloped in cool, salty air, I was so proud to be addressed as such.
That moment was yesterday. And that feeling? It always remains.
Happy happy anniversary, my love.