The Most Beautiful Spirit

Remember, my sweetheart, when we were in Sonoma just before my birthday at the film festival? We were staying in this funny little motel room and you were playing around with the Photobooth app on my white MacBook. You found this sorta psychedelic filter that made a normal shot look like something from The White Album and took a picture (mostly) of your eyes. Later, I wrote something about you - how happy and grateful you made me, filling my life with light and love - and I posted it on the little blog I used to spottily update back then. I used this picture in the post. And this is what I said about you, my love. My True Love. My angel...

She has the most beautiful spirit. Sometimes I'll hear her singing softly in the next room. I'll quietly get up to go listen in the open doorway. And I'll find her. Propped up, chin resting in her palm. A breeze blowing the thin white curtains, framed by darker crimson drapes, around. Sprawled belly-down across the bed, her legs scissoring the air. She's working on her laptop. Totally unawares. She doesn't even know that she's singing. Like an angel. I just look at her and feel my heart break in two. With love. With gratitude. For my girl. How did you ever find me? Thank god for you. Oh, my darling, thank god. For my angel. My angel. How I love you!