A Love Letter to Our Ordinary Days

An original public love letter about the days that rarely become anniversary stories. Its relationship and memories are fictional.

The days without photographs

When I try to picture us, I do not always see the holidays. I see you standing in the supermarket deciding whether we already have rice. I see the face you make when the fitted sheet refuses to cooperate. I hear us disagreeing politely about the correct volume for the radio.

These are not the scenes anyone puts on a postcard. Still, they make up so much of a life. I think there is something worth loving in the way two people learn to share them.

A language made slowly

We have an imaginary language of small references: the road we once took by mistake, the recipe that required every pan, the word we both misheard in a song. None of it would mean much to a stranger. To us, in this story, it means we have paid attention over time.

I like that kind of closeness because it leaves room for discovery. I can know how you take your tea and still be surprised by what you think about a book. Familiarity need not mean the end of curiosity.

One more ordinary evening

Tonight there is nothing special arranged. We need to eat, water the plant, and decide whether the film is worth finishing. I am not disappointed. There is a pleasure in having a life that does not require a special occasion to feel shared.

So here is a letter for the middle of things: the Tuesday, the shopping bag, the light left on in the hall. I would choose another ordinary evening in this imagined company.

A note about this reading

This is creative fiction, not a description of the publisher’s relationship with an individual visitor.