This place reminded me of all the quiet places we used to find. The hills behind our seaside house where we used to take the dog on walks we thought would make her tired. It reminded me of the first time you came to visit me and I took you to my secret spot were we sat on the rocky ridge, listened to the echoes of the calls to prayer, and watched the sunset move through the mountains we both fell in love with.

We have seen nearly 400 sunsets since that day.

It reminded me of when you took me around your village, we ate  fruits straight from their trees and you told me ghost stories about the falling buildings.

I felt you today, amid trees and green as I ran through new fields of chickens and children, wondering how we ever got here, so faraway, sometimes so out of tune.

With the gusts of wind, memories too breezed by, commencing a flutter of emotions I have been reluctant to let myself feel since everything changed and our spots--our seaside home, our walks, were no longer ours, just relics to keep us connected.

I'm thankful for these relics, these memories, the feelings too, and for these never-ending places that remind me of you.

I hope to watch more sunsets with you and to find all of the quiet places where things always seem to be in bloom. I hope I get to love you for the next 365 sunsets and for the sunsets of the rest of our lives.