"God only knows what I'd be without you."

I was in the depths of despair that morning, the sky filled with menacing dark clouds after weeks of nothing but sun. I started with my usual mental dialogue: "Of course. Why wouldn't this happen on my one day off? Why wouldn't it be cloudy on the only day that we planned a sun-related activity? God hates me."

Drew only laughed, kissing me on the nose, "It'll clear up!"

His attitude for existence in general summed up in three words.

Because by now he's used to my undeniable ability to plunge into emotional chasms and conquer emotional summits in very short periods of time. He knows how to bridge the gap between taking it seriously enough to make light of the situation. And that it doesn't mean I'm broken, only slightly unpredictable and perhaps in need of more pep talks than the average individual.

After a round of tubing, we're all chatting on the boat, munching on spicy Doritos with looks on our faces that smacked of, "Isn't this great? This, here, right now?" I slip out of my cut offs and stand on the end of the boat in my favorite polka-dotted one-piece. I can't stop staring, mesmerized at the shimmering tapestry of indigo spread at my feet. It was too hot. I dove in head-first, resurfacing and throwing my arms down toward my sides, floating idly on my back. A few jump in after me, because what is Summer without swimming in filthy bodies of water?

With my eyes closed tightly, I see the white hot impression of the sun. I realize, right then, that this summer seems to be turning out to be just about everything I had hoped. And Drew doesn't say he told me so, even though he could.