In Love.

The quiet. The beauty. The shared sister secrets. The laughs to follow. The surprises. The dress up. The prettying for pictures. Waiting for the next morning, the latelight that evening holds. The marveling. Adoring. Waking up to sweet smells in the kitchen. The Jane Austen. The reminiscing. My Dearma, my Poppa. Their love.

All of it, seamlessly undying and unending. I leave, every time, a little bit more in love...

John.

Darling, she is.