I remember the first time I did everything.

I remember first days, first times, first smells, first songs.
I can’t always bring them forth instanteously, but they are there, pervasive and influencing every moment that came after them.

I remember the first time I saw you, I do.
I remember the feeling I had, that knowing this was something, knowing we were something. This wasn’t just ships in the night, we were entities orbiting one another, unable to deny the appeal, that magnetic lure of connection.

Sometime I leave you, but even then I’m not gone, nor are you.
Our tether is not tenuous, regardless of how far in space and time we might seem from each other.
I can close my eyes and see your smile, hear your voice, recall the things I said to make you laugh. That might be my favourite part.

There might have been moments, there might still yet be, when I wasn’t kind, when I wasn’t patient, when I showed less love than was warranted.

There were times and there will be times when I was,
will be
a dick.
Sometimes I remember those times more clearly and wonder if they hurt you the same way they hurt me.

I’d love to say sorry, but I’m not sure it would help.

Break a plate.
Apologize to the plate.
Did it fix the plate?

But we aren’t plates, so easily broken, are we?
I would do well to remember that.