It´s still May 29th somewhere...

I remember writing a piss poor birthday card in Spanish (which I might even be able to find if I look hard enough). A was turning 28 and I was 21. Oh, to be 21 again. We went for ice-cream. Nothing major and then we strolled along the cathedral and there was a man playing the violin. It was getting dark and the moon was full. It was the beginning of something...of something bigger than I could have ever imagined. Moving away from my country, my family, my comfort and my home all because of those butterflies. Because of love. Because of you. Happy birthday to my love, Antonio. You must have made an impression on me. Has it really been a decade? I think we look hotter today! ha! Te quiero mucho!