1. I’m sorry I locked us out of our apartment building that night last January, while you were dragging our Christmas tree out to the curb and it was 20 degrees outside, and we didn’t have our coats or our phones. But I saw the tree catch in the wind like a sail, and I could tell that you were about to run out into the street after it, and I wanted to help you, so I ran outside, too. But you know how forgetful I am and how absentminded, and I guess we’d be stranded like that a lot more often if you were that way, too.
2. I’m sorry I was too shy to tell you how I felt when we were 18 and lived on the same dorm floor, and so instead I just stood in the hall, talking loudly to other people, hoping you might hear my voice and want to open your door, which often you did.
3. I’m sorry I worry so much about plane crashes and skin cancer and burglars. And I’m sorry that I always think our house is on fire, ever since that night in Brooklyn, the year we got married when there was a fire in our building, and we lived in a studio on the 15th floor. And the stairwells were filled with smoke, so we took a chance on the elevator, ducking down and holding hands, and then sneezed ash for days. And I’m happy you don’t worry like I do so that I can always look to you when I need to and tell from your smile that we’re safe, that someone next door is just cooking something smoky and that everything will probably be fine.