A new playlist,

the same people.

Our now-chipped mugs

full of hot chocolate

that I get up to make

while you sit laughing.

Head thrown back,

lights from the tree

reflecting off of golden curls.

I think to myself

about how my new dog looks like you,

and how I always listen

to the music you show me.

The mushroom ornament

you got me during our first Christmas

hangs from the tree.

We clink our bottles of wine

together

because life is too short

to use a glass,

not because

I don't have them.

You still rush over to the tree, shaking gifts.

Your eyes light up.

The sleeves of your sweater slip.

You grin at me.

I know

this is why.