It's been twenty-three months now, give or take a few days, and the thought that she never dreamed she'd want to be here now makes Meredith want to turn and walk again. She stays where she is, though, shaking her head with a dazed little smile. "I know," she says, "me neither. I used to think I'd be long gone by now. I guess that was pretty silly to think. But it's worked out for me." She has to believe that -- that even if she doesn't see a third Christmas here, even if he vanished tonight, it would be worth it. It's better to love, better to be loved, or she's got no reason to be here at all.