at a minor league baseball game, May 2010
One year ago today, I walked down to the lake on a gorgeous, yet chilly, late Spring evening. I strolled down the hill, breathing in lilac fragrance. I breathed deeply, and propelled myself forward, nervous and hopeful. Possibility shimmered in the air.
On our first date, G and I shivered on a picnic table for three hours, talking. Meeting. Laughing. Wondering.
If you've stuck with this blog (which has been written in fits and starts this year), you've picked up on some threads of our story. Perhaps you've even sensed some of the magic.
Reader, I fell in love.
And I've never felt more myself.
I could write an extensive but not exhaustive list of everything I love about G, but since I haven't let him know I'm writing this post (and will be overseas, without him when it posts), instead I will say that our lives together have expanded. Love provides the foundation to be vulnerable, to be true, and to be authentic. Whether it's someone strumming an air mandolin to Train's "Hey Soul Sister" or someone calling the bed Cloud, we're not afraid to be our goofy selves.
And there are tears. Ask G about my stress response, which is to imagine extremes and dissolve into tears. This is the hard part to share. But it's still me.
We're now in the process of merging our daily lives, as G left his village behind and moved to the city, and to our home. Boxes, bags, and misplaced furniture surround us. Daily routines stutter and flow. We're learning to adapt. Together.
At the end of our first date, as I walked up the stairs, I sensed that life was about to change. I had no idea.
I've never been happier.
Happy first anniversary, Gregg. I love you.