REEL I2015
···
Honeymoon — Bali & Seoul
Our first trip as us.
● D & G
17 · 05 · 2026
For my Grace,
11Eleven Years
keep tapping
an anniversary
letter
letter
Vol. XI · D → G
scroll
02 / 11
My dearest Grace,
This is a small place I built for you. Inside are the cities, the meals, the flights, the songs, the school schedules, the construction dust, the hospital waiting rooms, and the ordinary mornings that somehow became us. Eleven years of them. I wanted you to have a quiet little map of the life we have been making together.
Mostly, I wanted you to know that I notice. The plans you make. The details you hold. The way you take care of John, and me, and the lists no one else can see. The way you keep our life moving when you are tired. I am still trying, every day, to make you smile. And when the world feels like too much, I am here — for the easy years, the hard ones, and every year after.
Eleven years in, I would still choose you. In every city, every season, every version of this life.
— Derek
02
GraceThe second of
November
November
11
DerekThe eleventh of
February
February
11×2
Todayeleven years, twice over —
the number we keep finding
the number we keep finding
You were born on a two.
I was born on an eleven.
We were married, and now we have been married eleven times in a row.
The math has been ours from the start
Plate ICollins St · 2015
· · ·
A PoemEleven, With You
for Grace · May 2026
I.Year one. A Thursday at City Hall,
a pizza suit, a mushroom cake,
you a little tipsy, me a little dumbstruck.
Melbourne bells the second time. We meant it twice.
a pizza suit, a mushroom cake,
you a little tipsy, me a little dumbstruck.
Melbourne bells the second time. We meant it twice.
II.Year two —
Mexico at dawn, Hawaii at midnight,
spam musubi, a Paris plate.
Whatever heaviness arrived,
we ate our way back to the light.
Mexico at dawn, Hawaii at midnight,
spam musubi, a Paris plate.
Whatever heaviness arrived,
we ate our way back to the light.
III.Year three. You supported me through it all.
Hospitals. Phone calls.
Multiple trips to LA.
You stayed.
I came back. We kept going to Tokyo together.
Hospitals. Phone calls.
Multiple trips to LA.
You stayed.
I came back. We kept going to Tokyo together.
IV.Year four —
a river of Bordeaux with my parents,
red rocks in Sedona,
a Halloween that got a little naughty.
Even in the strange years, we kept finding joy.
a river of Bordeaux with my parents,
red rocks in Sedona,
a Halloween that got a little naughty.
Even in the strange years, we kept finding joy.
V.Year five —
IVF. Denmark. Sweden.
A September no calendar could have warned us about.
John.
IVF. Denmark. Sweden.
A September no calendar could have warned us about.
John.
VI.Year six. the world shrank to a hallway.
100 days, then a closed door for the rest.
My parents came and left.
and the three of us learned how to be a household.
100 days, then a closed door for the rest.
My parents came and left.
and the three of us learned how to be a household.
VII.Year seven —
preschool mornings, Hawaii afternoons,
LA Christmas, an aunt in every photo.
The first time the days had a rhythm of their own.
preschool mornings, Hawaii afternoons,
LA Christmas, an aunt in every photo.
The first time the days had a rhythm of their own.
VIII.Year eight —
Disneyland once, Tahoe twice,
and a door in St Francis Wood
we agreed to call ours.
The blueprint, before the dust.
Disneyland once, Tahoe twice,
and a door in St Francis Wood
we agreed to call ours.
The blueprint, before the dust.
IX.Year nine —
construction dust,
a key, a stair, a quieter hallway.
Tokyo trains with John between us.
Shanghai for Christmas.
The house became a home the way slow things do.
construction dust,
a key, a stair, a quieter hallway.
Tokyo trains with John between us.
Shanghai for Christmas.
The house became a home the way slow things do.
X.Year ten —
a garden we drew on a napkin,
playing at home in Johns playroom
Mexico for resting,
New York for snow.
John's new school, three short blocks from our door.
a garden we drew on a napkin,
playing at home in Johns playroom
Mexico for resting,
New York for snow.
John's new school, three short blocks from our door.
XI.Year eleven.
Kindergarten mornings.
Italy and Greece, salt in our hair.
Melbourne and Shanghai, holding us still.
Happy anniversary, my love.
Save me the next dance.
Kindergarten mornings.
Italy and Greece, salt in our hair.
Melbourne and Shanghai, holding us still.
Happy anniversary, my love.
Save me the next dance.
— Derek
Plate IIVows · 17 May 2015
Songs for Grace
A small playlist that I created just for you. Tap each to reveal what I think about when I hear it.
Our wedding song, all over again
The room got quiet. Your hand found mine. I remember thinking I had somehow been given the rest of my life — and that I would marry you again in every May.
A thank-you in song
For the plans you make, the details you carry, the smiles you give me, and the love I get to come home to.
The quiet hours belong to us
Slow coffee, your sleepy voice, the way the light finds your face. None of it is dramatic — and all of it is everything.
Here's to all the years ahead
Eleven feels like a beginning, not a number. I want every anniversary we haven't lived yet — and the small Tuesdays in between.
The simple nights we love most
No reservations, no plans — just you, me, and whatever's in the kitchen. The best evenings have always been the unscripted ones.
After all this time
You are still the one I look for in a crowded room. Still the one whose laugh I'd recognise anywhere. Still — and always — you.
The light you bring into every room
People feel it before they can name it. I get to live inside it. That glow is the warmest thing I know.
We've weathered, and we'll weather
The years we don't post about — the ones that asked the most of us — are the ones I'm proudest of. We held on. We held each other.
The years, on a loop
Pizza suit and mushroom cake. Tokyo trains. IVF hope. Construction dust. John's school mornings. All the cities that kept becoming us.
Tap any title to play · the bar at the bottom follows you
Plate IIIEleven Balloons · Held
A few of us
Photographs of a Sunday
May 17th, 2015 — a small archive of the day that started everything.
The kiss · St Paul's
Vows
A navy door
Tram 2012 · Collins St
Twirl, the ivy
Balloons
Under the veil
Navy & orange bouquet
Down the hall
Derek, getting ready
Rings · the letter
Leave a note for D & G
A few films
Moving pictures of us
Short reels from me to you over the years.
So — thank you.
For City Hall and Melbourne. For Bali and Korea.
For Paris and Tokyo and Shanghai. For Hawaii,
Mexico, New York, Italy, Greece, and all the places
still waiting on us.
For John. For kindergarten mornings.
For our home. For every late-night pack,
every school form, every meal,
every quiet way you have held us together.
I would marry you again. In every May, in every city,
in every version of this life.
Happy eleven years.
Here's to the next eleven —
and to all the love still ahead.
Derek
— yours, always —
