We were carefree, tonight. We felt the way we did years ago, when we were younger versions of oursel

We were carefree, tonight. We felt the way we did years ago, when we were younger versions of ourselves. When we had less responsibilities and we only thought we had real worries.

We used to talk into the late night hours, eating bread with cheese and olives and drinking wine, lying on the hardwood floor of your artsy apartment, listening to Damien Rice sing depressingly real songs about life, and love.

Those moments were real, then. We were seduced by that beautiful narrative, wanting it to mean both more, and much less. Wanting it to be different in the end, yet exactly the same. Exactly. Never failing to see the romance of a moment, even if the true price would be too much to bear.

Now, the hardwood floor has been replaced with a leather couch, a heavy dining room table and big chairs. The music is the background hum of family, of an old television. But we still have the same bread, cheese and olives and look how sophisticated we are now, having upgraded to Pink champagne.

So we toast to life, love, and friendship, and another year. And marvel, what a ride it’s been.