Soup

Deborah,

I made soup last night, thick and hot with just the right amount of spice. It was exactly right--hot enough to satisfy.

And I thought of you.

Wintertime is coming to a close, the snow is drizzling. You are my blanket, my night, every star to guide me through the darkness.

Yet love is more than heat and spice and salt. Love is friendship and companionship and converstion long into the evening. Love is having someone's back. Love is sharing your sense of taste and sight and touch.

Love is being with you.

Love forever and always, Michael