Fresh today · Tuesday, 23 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.

Drawn at dawn
Wishes in the library
92,976

I love that you remember what I said three Tuesdays ago. It's an unfair superpower.

If love is a language, you're my most fluent translator.

I love you — that's the whole message, in any tense you want it.

You're the soft place I keep returning to, even in my own head.

I love the way you laugh in old photos. I love the way you laugh now.

Sending love — please sign for it. The package is heavier than it looks.

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What are we writing today?

Cabinets sorted by occasion. Open one — pages are arranged by warmth, not algorithm.

More from today

I love you the way books love readers — quietly, patiently, glad to be opened.

You're the reason I now believe in the long version of everything.

I love how you make small joys feel like national holidays.

If love is verbs, you've conjugated all of mine.

You're my favorite text I keep waiting to receive.

I love the look you get when you almost remember a word — the room gets warmer.

You make me kinder, calmer, slightly braver. The triangle of you.

Love note: you, comma, always.

I love your taste in mornings, in songs, in how-much-sugar.

You're my favorite category of news.

I love how love behaves when it's near you. It learns better manners.

Sending you a love message disguised as a Tuesday — please accept the delivery.

I love you. There. That's the entire essay; the rest is footnotes.

Happy New Year, my love — let's spend another twelve months building small, good things together.

May 2024 bring us slower mornings and louder, better laughter.

To us, in any year — same teammate, same favorite voice, more chapters.

New year, same hand to hold across the table.

Wishing you a year where your phone is quieter and your kitchen is louder.

Happy New Year — let's keep being the most boring, happiest couple at the party.