To the calm that arrives when you say my name slowly.

To the mitten you lost last winter that I still keep in the drawer.

To the plain wish: I want to make you coffee tomorrow morning.

To the way I plan small surprises because you deserve them.

To the small bravery you show asking for help when you need it.

To feeling proud when people see us and we still hold hands.

To the cheap wristwatch you wear and won't replace; it suits you.

To the sticky note you left on the fridge that made me laugh.

To the plain truth: I miss you the second you leave the room.

To the Sunday when you fixed my shelf and didn't complain.

To your insistence on making playlists for road trips — I love them.

To choosing you again, simply and without ceremony.

To the comfort I feel when you bring an umbrella for both of us.

To the small thrill when you call me by a nickname only you use.

To the scar on your knuckle that I trace when we're quiet.

To wanting to come home to you after a long day.

To your voice reading receipts aloud in the car; it made me smile.

To the way you check the locks twice and then still kiss me goodbye.

To the plain sentence: I want to be near you tonight.

To the single plant you keep alive on the windowsill; I notice.

To the steady pull I feel toward you every time we plan a weekend.

To your habit of leaving crumbs by the keys — small, known, ours.

To laughing at the same dumb show until we can't breathe.

To the grocery list you texted me and how I saved it.

To feeling safer when your hand finds mine on the bus.

To the way you fold laundry so precisely that it calms me.

To liking you more every time you admit you were wrong.

To the coffee mug with the cracked handle you refuse to toss.

To knowing I can tell you the truth and you'll stay.

To your terrible karaoke of that one chorus — it made my night.

To the small rush I get when your name lights up my screen.

To the dent in your phone case that I keep meaning to fix.

To feeling quieter and calmer whenever you sit near me.

To your burnt toast this morning — I loved that you laughed about it.

To the way I relax when you text 'on my way' and mean it.

To your stubborn habit of leaving one sock on the radiator — I still notice.

I feel proud telling my sister about the time you fixed the heater.

I promise to answer the door at midnight when you come home from work.

I will carry your heavy bag up stairs without making it a thing.

I feel a simple joy when your playlist starts and I know your mood.