I wish that I could memorize my little midnight conversations.

I call them conversations even though they're anything but that. Soliloquies would be more appropriate.

I wish I could record them, and hover my finger over a play button, until the next time I see her, then jab that button, stand back, and watch the magic unfold.

For some reason, at midnight on each December 31st, I know exactly what to say.

The rest of the year I'm tongue-tied and bewildered.

But tonight, tonight at midnight specifically, I was smooth.

Tonight at midnight, she would have at least listened.

And, tonight at five minutes after midnight, she would have at least understood.