Time heals all, right? And in time I will forget:
1. The exact number of steps (count 'em, twelve) needed to deliver me from my station to the steps of his station (upupup to a waiting streetcar and then downdowndown one familiar street and acrossacrossacross a waiting intersection of blurred greens and reds and honks and upupup an expectant flight of stairs into waiting arms).
2. The feel of a white cotton hug before drifting to sleep.
3. Born to Run in polyphonic ring tone form.
4. Tastes and smells and touches and everything in between.
But in the meantime, I have teen romance novels and one cat who spoons me in his sleep. And time, so much time, passing me this very moment.