Four years ago, I wrote a post called "one year later" on Valentine's Day, reflecting on a love lost (more accurately - a love relinquished). Later that year, I met the man I would marry.
It is cliche to say, but I knew right away that he would be the one. Perhaps I knew, because I had set my intentions into the world, and he materialized sooner than I anticipated. We married this past January, making today a one-month later, if we are to use beginnings rather than endings as markers. Either way, I am here, trying to capture the things I've learned about love in the last five years, and it feels too large to wrap my mind around.
And then came my husband, and four years later, I still feel the same burst of excitement seeing his (very handsome) face every day, same as I did in the beginning. I have known love to be deep, but I have not understood it to be this big - an inadequate word but how else do I scratch at the surface of all the admiration I have for him and the way he makes me want to be better and the way he makes my small space in this world better. But isn't that something that everyone already knows? That love is huge and consumes, and if you are lucky, it makes you want to be better.
It is cliche to say, but I knew right away that he would be the one. Perhaps I knew, because I had set my intentions into the world, and he materialized sooner than I anticipated. We married this past January, making today a one-month later, if we are to use beginnings rather than endings as markers. Either way, I am here, trying to capture the things I've learned about love in the last five years, and it feels too large to wrap my mind around.
First, I learned to love my life untethered by the expectations I imposed on myself. There were many times I wondered if I was a disappointment to my parents, because I chose to journey through life by myself. My favorite moments were getting on a plane, settling in for a long nap, and waking up on the other side of the world. When I was with K, I "saved" my trips for us to go on together. Without him, I spontaneously booked plane tickets - I rode ATVs in Santorini, stood in quiet awe of the Hagia Sophia, ate my way through Tsukiji market on Thanksgiving, and danced into the wee morning hours on Bourbon Street. I felt a little lost, a little off-script, but incredibly in love with the world.
Second, I learned to prioritize my feelings above what I thought was the "right" decision. I stopped being so wary of my feelings and trusted the wisdom that came with being older. I distrusted passionate love nine years ago, and I thought the most important thing was to just pick someone devoted to me and to the idea of a family. I put my feelings second, because I thought I couldn't have it all. But as I started to travel down that path of head over heart, I knew I couldn't make the wrong choices again. I couldn't pick someone that I wasn't 100% enthusiastic about.
And then came my husband, and four years later, I still feel the same burst of excitement seeing his (very handsome) face every day, same as I did in the beginning. I have known love to be deep, but I have not understood it to be this big - an inadequate word but how else do I scratch at the surface of all the admiration I have for him and the way he makes me want to be better and the way he makes my small space in this world better. But isn't that something that everyone already knows? That love is huge and consumes, and if you are lucky, it makes you want to be better.
So there it is, love with a happy ending (beginning). Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.
Posts
