I’ve heard people say that the body regenerates every seven years. (I’m sure that’s not entirely true, but I’ve heard it)
Which means that all of the cells in my body now were not there seven years ago.
Which would also indicate that the cells in my body seven years ago are gone.
Sitting on a cloud with baby Jesus, or something believable like that.
My hands look older. I’ve been noticing that.
She tells me all the time to use moisturizer, and I know she’s right.
Yet here I am with cracked bloody knuckles. Go figure.
So, what I’m getting at is….
Eight years ago tonight I held her hand for the first time.
We were different people.
Our hands are new hands. Our hearts, new hearts. But I and all the subsequent Me’s couldn’t imagine a world without she and all the subsequent hers.