Here's to a year of being each other's first text and last conversation, with nothing important in between rushed.
Fresh today · Saturday, 20 June
New Wishes
A handful of wishes pulled from the cabinet this morning. Pick one up — copy, save it to your pinboard, or send it on.
May 2024 be kind to the version of us that doesn't make the highlight reel and keeps showing up anyway.
Wishing us fewer big plans and more long Sundays, the kind that taught us we'd already arrived.
May the new year find your shoulders lower and your hand still in mine at the strike of midnight.
Here's to twelve more months of inside jokes that will not survive a single retelling at any party.
Loving you into 2024 is the easiest promise I will make this year — and probably keep best.
↑ pick one up
Browse by occasion
What are we writing today?
Cabinets sorted by occasion. Open one — pages are arranged by warmth, not algorithm.
- Anniversary
- Baby
- Belated
- Best
- Birthday
- Boy
- Boyfriend
- Christian
- Christmas
- Congratulation
- Diwali
- Easter
- Eid Mubarak
- Engagement
- Farewell
- Fathers Day
- Friendship
- Funny
- Get Well
- Girl
- Girlfriend
- Good Morning
- Good Night
- Graduation
- Hanukkah
- Heart Touching
- Holiday
- Invitation
- Job
- Love
- Miss You
- Mothers Day
- New Year
- Recovery
- Retirement
- Romantic
- Thank You
- Thanksgiving
- Wedding
- Well
- Women's Day
- Sympathy
- Valentine's Day
- Halloween
- Veterans Day
More from today
Wishing you a year where the news matters less and the dinner table matters more, often.
May we toast in January and remember why in December, with the same glass and the same gratitude.
Here's to a new year that doesn't require us to become anyone we weren't yesterday at breakfast.
May 2024 unfold like a slow song — a few surprises, no major key changes, you on the chorus.
Wishing us the rare luxury of boredom together — a Sunday afternoon that asks nothing of either of us.
May our love this year be less performance, more practice, and entirely under the same roof.
Here's to twelve months of remembering that home is a verb and we conjugate it together.
Wishing you a year that returns more than it takes, including more of you, returned to me at evening.
May 2024 hold the same hand it held last December, only a little more sure of the grip.
Loving you next year sounds like the easiest thing I've agreed to since the last time I said yes.
Wishing us a new year measured in shared meals rather than miles, and laughs rather than likes.
May we keep choosing each other on the boring days — that's the resolution worth keeping.
Here's to a January that doesn't punish December and a December that doesn't fear January.
May 2024 be the year nobody can describe but us, in the exact words we never bother saying aloud.
Wishing you the same midnight kiss and a slightly better couch to nap on by spring.
May this year teach us nothing harsh and remind us softly of everything we already knew about each other.
Here's to a love that doesn't refresh annually but does, somehow, feel new at the strike of twelve.
Wishing us twelve quiet anniversaries of nothing in particular — the ones that turn into the marriage.
May 2024 close with both of us still here, still us, still surprised by how much that meant.