I am one year older today. All the things I’d wanted to accomplish this year didn’t happen, but I’m not beating myself up over them. I thought last year might be “my year”—but now that I’ve been through it, I can tell you it wasn’t. I’m not down about it, though. I think it helps that I’ve physically removed myself from my usual reality and am sitting here in a hotel. The view out the window is of my beloved city. I tried to photograph the lights of the skyline last night, but they wouldn’t come out for some reason. I guess you just have to be here, separated by a river from the island, looking out on what you used to be in. (Now updated with a better picture above.)

Two days ago was e’s birthday, and yesterday the anniversary of the day we were married. I ordered room service last night, leaving the menu order on the doorknob. It came just on time: a mochaccino and blueberry pancakes. Such decadence. I couldn’t even finish the pancakes!

So here I am, in this hotel suite that is bigger than my apartment, casting my eyes through the fog after the snowstorm to try and find my neighborhood on the riverbank across the way. My dreams haven’t changed over the years, only solidified. Two years ago, I can’t help but remember how I had a difficult moment at my birthday, so I’m happy to be apart from my mailbox today. I’ll return to my island, and my foggy real life, tomorrow.