Despite forgetting my name, my husband still waits for me at sunset

Harold used to send me tiny messages after we were married, and he would conceal them in strange locations, like glove compartments, coffee filters, or even taped under the laundry detergent bottle. He would say, “Just in case you forget how loved you are.”

It’s me reminding him now.
Little slips were the first. Where he placed the car keys, names, and appointments. One day, he stopped speaking in the middle of a sentence and asked, “Wait… what’s your name again?” He had this perplexed, guilty expression as if he should have known, but it was hidden behind a barred door.

I gave him a cheek kiss, smiled, and repeated.