My love,
Last night, I got to see you after a week apart. A week is 7 days. That’s 168 hours, or 10,080 minutes, or 604,800 seconds…however you want to slice it.
I think most people would say that a week is not a very long time, but those people have never dated you. I felt every 604,800th second. I’m not going to be dramatic about it. It sucked. I’ll leave it at that.
But as you jumped into my arms last night, every 604,800th second apart vanished. It was like it never happened. All I could think about was how perfectly my arms fit around your waist, and how your legs wrapped around mine. I could only think of the smell of your hair, and the sensation of your arms around my neck. I wanted to hug and hold you forever, but I realized that, at some point, I should probably let go…so I tried.
But you didn’t let me. You held on like you were never going to let go, and I love you all the more for that. Never let go.
Then I kissed you. And when I kissed you, I thought nothing had ever felt so satisfying. It was even better than I remember it being, and I remember it being life-changing. I don’t know what’s better than life-changing, but whatever that is…it was that.
I figured that each kiss throughout the evening would lose some spark, that it would feel routine again. But I was wrong.
Each kiss felt like the first time all over again. Remember in the last letter when I said that our love feels young and naive, but seasoned and mature at the same time? Kissing you feels like that. When I kiss you, it feels like I’ve discovered an incredible thing for the first time. And yet, it feels like we’ve been doing it forever. I don’t understand how this is possible. To those who have never experienced this, my words may fall oddly on their ears. But I’m guessing that you know exactly what I’m talking about.
I don’t want to ramble…I only want to remember last night.
You are something else…my something else.
Sincerely,
The Luckiest Guy in the World
The Campfire 