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There she goes. My wife. My life.

I kissed her for the first time 2 years, 7 months, and 21 days ago. And it still feels the same when I kiss her now. Every touch, every smile, every kiss, still works like a drug on me. The more I get, the more I want. Every minute, every day, every time I'm with her.

Her loveliness is a quiet flood rising and rolling over me, washing away all my petty idiosyncracies in its surge, sweeping it all away like broken furniture. There's nothing better than being carried by this billowing current, gliding through life on the heaving force of natural momentum. On love.

Me and my love are going to have a baby.

Besides all the banality, is it a boy, is it a girl, names, places, and people, besides all that, there is us. There is family we are about to begin. The beginning we are about to board. I think about it and realize how beautiful life can be.

3 years ago I was just some guy. I had some money, I had a "cool" job, I had a lifestyle. And it was all just broken furniture. "The unexamined life is not worth living" isn't true - it's "the unlived life isn't worth examining." I'm not some guy anymore. I'm a husband, a father, a lover: what I do now means something. One kiss above a rooftop in Tokyo, one kiss overlooking the warm August night, made my life mean something.

It's a beautiful life.