There you are. Years ago. In a picture frame with your now wife. Young. A skyline behind and a look of disbelief: How did I get so lucky? How did I get here? Wherever it is you are. With her. 

She, she smiles too. Her arm around you. That sky blue skit and that dangling arm, the one that's not behind your neck, droops. Not awkwardly. Naturally. 

Khaki cargo cutoffs cast a shadow over your knee. And it's the skin of your shin that leads straight down to those clogs you're wearing. 

You are practical and analytical.