This is dedicated to my wife, on the occasion of our three year anniversary. The time… where has it gone? Out of my soul and into you, through several orifices, that's where. And would I change one second of it? Not one second.

Nancy, you are the light in my bedroom early in the morning as I get out of bed for a drink of water, or perhaps to use the bathroom. You are my reason for getting out of bed in the morning, as you wake me up so I will not be late for work. You are my one, my only, my everything, even the things that you would not initially think you are. Like the dressing on my salad that adds flavor and zest to it, or the potato peeler that keeps me from having to eat skins.

When I first saw you all those years ago, when I was dating your friend, I knew we would one day be together. But I thought at the time we would be together in a sort of group thing, with your friend, my then-current girlfriend, and some person you were likewise dating. But fate twists and turns, wobbles and falls down, smashes your glass coffee table and sleeps with your sister. And you became mine, when I called you and asked you if you wanted to bring over my laundry from your friend's house for me.

But Nancy, that small errand became the first of many you would do for me. You would carry my heart on your back like it weighed nothing and bring it back to me, bringing with you hope and happiness and your beautiful smile. Though I'm sure my heart already was pretty heavy, it's as if you shrugged it off and said, "No, I can take it with me. Just throw it on top of the heart. Careful, don't squash it or nothing."

Nancy, you are the song in my heart. A song I never get sick of, like that "I get knocked down but I get up again" song that I at first liked and then got sick of hearing at every football game we went to. What would I do without you? It's a stupid question that you're dumb for asking, because I would not spend a day without you. I would find you anywhere, at any place—I would sail the seven seas and find you, except for the fact I do not have a boat. But it is fine because you are already here.

Where are we going, where will it all end? And how? These are questions I don't really care about.

Sometimes I picture us growing old together, a happy old couple like Hume Cronyn and Jessica Tandy, only you have not died. Sure, your looks are gone and I look more like my dad than I ever wanted to, but we are still together and happy. Though sometimes bored. And our house is full of our children and grandchildren, because you have pampered them all their lives and they refuse to move out and take care of themselves even though they are well old enough. We have had many arguments about this, our future selves, but they are never severe and the words we say we always take back.

This is our life together—yes, one life, as in we are one person. I, Chals, and you, Nancy, we're like Chancy. One person, one mind, two differing sets of genitalia and one large closet full of man and woman clothes. Our independent thought processes buried under the will of our new two-person collective. I refuse to let you go even if you would scream to be released, I would rather be dead. And you feel the same way for me.

So if you're reading this, Nancy, please come back. My friends have moved out of the garage and will not be back, I promise. I miss you. My one, my only, my everything.

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