I remember the stairs to the beach where we carved our names.

I remember the sweet spiciness of cinnamon gum.

I remember the jagged rocks that pressed into our bare feet.

I remember the family who asked me to take their picture in front of the ocean.

I remember the rough fabric of your polo and the first time you put your arm around me.

I remember seeing my reflection in your sunglasses.

I remember sunburn.

I remember being the only people left on the beach.

I remember the wind tossing around my hair.

I remember the feeling of your hand on my shoulder.

I remember the sound of the waves blending with your laugh.

I remember you singing off-key to make me laugh too.

I remember laughing.

I remember chipped purple polish on my fingernails.

I remember walking to the lighthouse.

I remember holding hands.

I remember the sky turning gray and the distant sound of a thunderstorm.

And I remember the comfort I felt, despite the darkness, from being with you.