#beatingtheodds

Time works differently in D/s. One year is one year, yes, but it is, if done right, far more intense (and as a result, far more volatile) than just the number of days. 

You’ve had bad days, I’ve seen. Far more than you deserved. But that fades away.

What I remember most prominently is something people forget. A small thing, that thing of rote that people don’t even notice after a while. Like the light outside that your father will always leave on when you’re going to be home late. Like passing the salt at dinner.

For one year you have knelt for me. Day after day. Every kneel mattered. It will always matter. On every day, even the bad ones, it matters.

Happy anniversary, little girl.

(PS: It was a leap year. The odd one.)