To He-Who-Holds-the-Corkscrew:

    If time, or science, has not given back what my eyes have taken. If i am still walking home, the three miles home, to our home, when I meet you, when that day comes, and I walk in that door flushed, and cold, and wondering how sight took so much from me; when i have an armload of breakfast groceries and a bottle of red wine, and my hair is a mess, and four cars have catcalled me, when life is imperfect, and I couldn't bring myself to call you to come rescue me,  and when the plastic bag's broken, and when I did not wear enough layers, please still love me. No matter how I look, or feel, or sigh for the moment. Please open the bottle, and open your lap, and open your heart. Because I walked all that way to you.

love, the girl who stomped half a block, before she remembered you were waiting and couldn't help smiling again.