Sometimes I wake up in this place from the heat that is already filling my world, mid-March. I wonder how I got here and then I roll over or more often am woken by the soft hum of the man who sleeps next to me, his face in mine. "Right," I think. "You brought me here." He is a choice I make every day, every moment I am alive. He tells me every day that he is living his dream, and hopes I am living mine, too. It's a beautiful symmetry we share - my preciseness with decisions, and his eager willingness to support them, whatever they are.

We all could have lived a hundred different lives with different people, outcomes, worlds. But this is the world I chose, given free reign to do so and somehow that makes this existence of mine the best thing I have ever done.