
I’ve known you for ten years. I’ve loved you for about the same.
Even at 16, you intimately knew sides of me I was afraid to reveal to others. You spoke so highly of my ambitions, but I never believed in them the way you believed in me. In the growing stages of our friendship, I never felt I deserved your kindness, your time or your attention. It was easier and less scary to put distance between us than wholly accept your presence in my life.
We were living beyond arm’s reach, but I always had my eyes on you. Your updates would flash across the screen like a comet across the sky; your personal success a radiance amongst the drab existence. My heart would beg me to reach out with a gentle hand and an offering of peace, but what could I possibly say when all you deserved to hear was, “I’m sorry”? Even in my distant silence, I was always rooting for you. In life and in love and in finding true happiness. Even if that happiness wasn’t because of me.
I suppose I wasn’t ready. I didn’t love myself enough to deserve the love of another. Not that I ever thought or knew that you loved me, but I figured if I was more whole of a person, maybe I could finally be one of the beautiful women on your radar. I focused on self love and finding success and doing everything I could to deserve a man like you. Even when you weren’t around, you were pushing me to be my greatest self.
I’ll show him one day, I thought. One day.
One day finally came, but it still wasn’t the right time. I understand now it was meant to happen that way. We were meant to sit there on the couch filling in the holes of the last four years until the first light of the morning. I can’t tell you how wonderful it was to finally see you smile. But this was just another one of our stints. The ones where we would soak in the other’s presence, marveling at each other’s lives, unwilling to let go until the very last second. I had to pry my fingers from around your neck as it was becoming so much harder to say goodbye in these fleeting moments. That morning, I sat at the corner creperie crying behind oversized sun glasses and between sips of a burnt cappuccino. All channels of communication went silent that day (as they have done so often in the past), but I was still hopeful for our time.
Months later, you showed up in our home city and asked me to tag along for the night. The butterflies were so rampant I felt I could drift away on the backs of their wings at any moment. No one could ever make me feel the way you do. I wanted to hold your hand so badly that I avoided your eyes at all costs during dinner. I didn’t want you to recognize my weakness, but I was so tired of pretending not to care about you.
Why did I ever pretend?
We walked along the edge of the bay, wrapped up in each other and in the tranquility of the night. I asked if you were happy. Your response led me to believe you were never coming back. San Francisco was your home now and there was no room for me, or us, in the city. My heart yelped from the blow of honesty, but I was still thankful for that moment. To have you here, all to myself. There was no where else in the world I wanted to be.
And then the hotel room. That quirky ass hotel room. I remember thinking I would give anything to wake up next to you each morning and watch you scramble to get ready for work. I held on to you, desperate to tell you I loved you and instead choking on the devastation of our goodbye. It was the hardest I have ever cried.
Until a week later when I got that phone call.
Tragedy strikes you like blunt force trauma to the heart and you immediately spiral to the depths of utter hopelessness. I was drowning in an eternal darkness. Alone. But you knew. Somehow you knew something wasn’t right. My world was completely shattered, but you knew just what to say. The shards of your broken past complimented the fragments of my present. You smothered the gaping holes in my heart with empathy, understanding, positivity, and love.
Yes, love. The kind of love I had been yearning to feel from you after all these years. It was a glimmer of hope in a hopeless situation. One that held me up as I searched for steady ground beneath my feet. In that moment, you reminded me it’s a beautiful day to be alive. I’ve fought internal and external wars with your words at the forefront of my heart every day since.
If you told me in two short years I would be living a life beyond my greatest dreams with you as my husband, I would have gone insane at the thought. Trying to fix everything I had ever done to make myself worthy of something as precious as your heart. I still look around at the insanity which is our lives and have to remind myself this is real. That I am yours and you are mine and we are sharing every facet of our beautiful lives as husband and wife.
The last six months have been effortless. Even with an international move, things have gone smoother than I could have ever hoped for. Being with you was always easy, but being your wife is otherworldly. We have reached new highs in our collective happiness and our bond gets stronger every day.
Because the fact of the matter is, I love being your wife.
I love that my day begins as you’re leaving for work and kissing you goodbye through sleepy eyes. I love taking care of the home that you continue to provide for us and being able to live in this beautiful country with you by my side.
I love being your voice of reason. Turning your head towards a positive light when you’re caught in a negative space. You’ve done so much for me over the years, I feel a sense of purpose when I am finally able to help you through your own ordeals.
I love your eagerness to travel and how you’ve created every opportunity for us to do so. I love watching you explore and interpret this world through your photography. You have become so comfortable in this form of self expression. I strive to be the artist you are.
I love how time stands still when it’s just you and I. How nothing else in the world exists. Like when you look at me from across the room and flash that, “I can’t believe this is really real,” kind of smile. That look means everything.
It’s the little things, the subtle day to day things, which make your love so precious. Like the hearts you leave in my food when you make us dinner or filling our home with my favorite flowers. It’s the kiss on the shoulder to let me know you’re still here among so many other gestures of affection and appreciation. I love opening the shudders to our front window and letting the sunshine pour in while waiting for you to return after a long day. I love seeing you turn the corner on your bike and the look of relief that silently screams, “I’m so happy to be home”. I love bolting from the bedroom, or any room that I’m in, and leaping into your arms as you swing open the front door.
I love being the last person you speak to, the last person you whisper to before you drift to sleep. I love laying awake just a few minutes longer, running my fingers through your hair, aware of the heaviness of your head on my chest and how wonderful it feels to hold you in my arms. I will do anything for you. I will do everything for you. Especially if it means seeing you happy. I then fall asleep with the honest intention of doing it all again with you tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. For the rest of our beautiful days.
You are my best friend first.
My husband second.
The love of my life always.
And that is something I promise to never take for granted.
Thank you for an incredible six months of marriage, my love. I can’t wait to see what the rest of our lives has in store.







