January 5 — Put a record on

“Put on the Trevor Hall record — really quiet.”

“Will do!” I smiled and left the lodge.

It’s those little thoughts that keep the ship on course. They are gusts that fill the sails, gently picking up a knot or two of speed. Nothing can blunt the momentum of these small-but-steady acts of affection. Suddenly the night on the couch I envision is no longer my idea. It’s no longer some selfish expression of romance that I’m foisting on her. It’s our idea now, a shared desire.

Back at the house I sit on the couch with my laptop and journal, waiting to hear the door crack open. At midnight I put the record on and turn down the volume. The house is still. The night is cold. The room is warm with dying embers and the tropical sound of a guitar.

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