Dearest, Here I am, standing beneath the tree where we first met all those years ago. I'm fulfilling my promise, love, the one where we said that every year we would spend our anniversary, even a small part of it, here, beneath the same canopy of leaves that watched over us in the beginning. The tree is taller now, and I doubt that I can still reach them even if I stood on my tiptoes. However, the cool breeze and the intoxicating smell of the flowers all around us remain the same, tickling my nose and bringing back old, fond memories. I remember how we met here, that fateful summer day. You smiled at me, and I remember stumblingon this very root on which I am sitting now. Your smile hypnotized me, and your laugh was the perfect compliment to the rustling of the leaves overhead. I also remember our very first date beneath this same tree. You made me a surprise picnic, a complete spread, and I felt so awkward and lacking, gripping the single red rose I had picked from our gardens in my grimy hands. I blushed like mad, and tried to think of something, anything, to tell you that will somehow measure up to the effort you put in. Again, you laughed your tinkling laugh, took the rose, and we shared our first kiss, the one that made my cheeks flush to a shade that put the rose to shame. I also remember when you agreed to be my wife, underneath this very same tree. I remember going down on my knees and stammering through the whole proposal. Dear God, my love, it was a wonder that you put up with my blabbering and just didn't go down on your knees and proposed to ME, just to get it over with! I even remember fumbling with the ring before finally putting it on your finger. But the day that will forever be burned into my memory will be the day that we were wed here. In front of all our friends and family, we became one, and we shared a kiss that was as sweet as the first. I can remember each and every anniversary we had here, my darling, from the time when you and I spent the night here, looking at the stars, the time when we put up a tire swing on one of the branches, and, my personal favorite, the time when I made the picnic and your expression made up for the whole afternoon spent sweating over a hot stove. I knew then how much you really love me, being able to do that for me all those years. As I come near the end of my letter, my darling, I lean back and take one last glance around this place where we have built so many memories, and where you made your final request two months ago: to be laid to rest here, underneath our tree in the presence of all those memories. I will lay down this pen, go home, and wait?wait until the moment where, underneath the tree where everything all began, and where everything will continue until forever, we will be together again once more.
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