(For #'s 1-25, visit here. For #'s 26-50, here.)
51. Talking for hours and hours and hours with Mike, until the sun peeked into the windows, until we frantically realized we both had to be at work in an hour. And then doing it again the next night. Because we couldn't stop talking to one another.
52. Standing on California Street in San Francisco on the first day of the new year, watching the desk calendar pages float down from the windows high above me.
53. Each and every hug my mother has ever given me.
54. The day I beat all the odds to become an officer on my high school drill team.
55. Driving my '89 Honda Civic on a golf course, laughing until I couldn't breathe.
56. The first time I heard "I love you" from someone who gave me butterflies—on January 18, 1998.
57. Eating at the Cheescake Factory, with the people I loved the most surrounding me, on the day I graduated from high school in the spring of 2000.
58. Climbing with my sister, ages 19 and and 22, on the "spider web" at the Seattle Zoo.
59. Ordering my first legal drink—an amaretto sour—at age 20, in a Toronto bar.
60. Watching STOMP in San Francisco and listening to my nine-year-old brother explain to a friend of mine the definition of a lesbian.
61. Driving through McDonalds before a very early-morning practice and not beating myself up for the calories—knowing I was about to work them all off and then some.
62. Reading the perfect blog post; the post that inspires me to strive for heights I know I'll never reach. Posts like this and this and this.
63. Dancing at halftime at a Cowboys game, with Reba McEntire singing roughly 50 ft away from me.
64. Feeling beautiful on prom night.
65. Being broken-hearted and nineteen and not knowing how I would get through it all because the boy who left me left me for a good friend of mine and then receiving an e-mail from Natalie that said, "I am going to kick his ass." And, what's more, believing her. (The true gauge of a best friend: she still doesn't like the girl, even seven years later.)
66. Eating dinner, the night before my wedding, with some of the best friends a girl could ever ask for and realizing that, wow, they were all in town for me.
67. Walking so often through the yards of two houses—the houses between my house and hers—that we indented a path through the grass.
68. Locking eyes with him across the room.
69. Walking the streets of NYC, laughing at caterpillars and Shish kabobs, and wishing the day would never, never end.
70. Piggy-back rides.
71. Slipping on my engagement ring, at sunrise on a Florida beach, begging myself to remember, remember, remember.
72. Having drinks with Cherie, just the two of us, at Hole In The Wall, a bar in College Station.
73. Running into Brendon Anthony in Hastings and asking him, while hyperventilating, for his autograph and a picture.
74. Writing this one particular poem.
75. Laughing uncontrollably with Mike, on our wedding night, and realizing that, my god, we were both the happiest we had ever been.