you would be so happy today, it’s hot and humid outside, which for some reason I’ll probably never understand, was your favorite type of New York weather. Remember last year walking around Central Park, and I kept saying that I’m melting, and it’s not the heat, but the humidity that gets to me. I went for a walk, it wasn’t through Central Park, you weren’t there, and not once did I say I was melting; that seemed to bother you, although you joked about how you would have to scoop me back up because you didn’t know your way around. I had wondered if this weather reminded you of Korea, and if you were just homesick. I was hoping to experience it with you when I moved there; “sounds like a plan” you kept saying,… it was.