Three years ago today, Heather and I met for the first time. Who knew, then, what would become of us? I knew she was beautiful, and charming, and I'd read her journal a time or two, but that was all.

A couple of months after meeting her, I decided I wanted to stay with her always.

I'm in the process of doing that very thing.

Tonight we went to our favorite sushi place, and ate caterpillar rolls, and other yummy things. (And, yes, we are stone broke, but I just got a check from Asimov's for a poem they accepted over a year ago, so we spent that surprise money on a celebratory meal.) Then we came home, and I read to her (we're still reading Mucho Mojo, though I imagine we'll finish it next week -- then we'll move on to The Two-Bear Mambo). We took a walk through the flower-scented night, to the local Grab-and-Stab (ie., the 24-Hour Liquor Store) to get tasty beverages. Then we snuggled all evening on the couch.

Three years since I met her, and still so much in love, immersed in love, surrounded by love. Living every day in love.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened to me if I hadn't gone to the brunch that St. Patrick's Day three years ago, if I hadn't met Heather. I would almost certainly be living in New York City, now, since I'd planned to move there. I would've tried to get a job with a magazine or SF publisher, and maybe I'd be a slush reader now, or an editorial assistant, or maybe I'd just be doing layout for books, or copyediting, or proofreading. Or possibly I'd be doing nothing publishing-related at all. I would be cold right now, I think.

I'm glad I'm here, where I am now.