It's the 41st time

I try to imagine one of those beautiful pictures, where the scenery is so perfectly captured, the cars seem like they are moving in slow motion and the people stop just long enough for you to capture their smile. I try to imagine that and I laugh, softly just barely bending the corners of my mouth. Something about that reminds me of him. It's that breathtaking thing. It's like every time I see my car on the road, not so pretty but not so the same, it's so defectively different that yet again I am captivated just like the painting, and I wonder, is it just me, or is the enchanting trance visited upon everyone. It's not just me, but it's the facets of me that are arrested, just like the facets of you, become me, in one swift second, every year, every time, my mind stops and I think, what will it be like, if at all, and how would we make up for all the years, until the 41st time.

There is no reason, you are out there, meshed with the fabric of my being, in the soft whisper of my quivering heart, you are there. It was the 41st time.

To the 41st year, I say...Happy Birthday!