Asher and I celebrated our 3-year anniversary this weekend. It’s actually next weekend, but we do what we want, and we wanted to celebrate it in DC this time around.

We never do anything special for anything. A celebration for us calls for chowing down takeout burritos while sitting on the couch with my legs carelessly crossed over his. We might hold hands for a few minutes, and maybe a few quick kisses between bites, but that’s about as good as it gets for us folks.

This year, this year was different. We wandered over to DC and walked until our little toes wanted to fall off. We explored, and then explored some more, and just when we thought we were done, we found another monument or memorial that was super close, and while we’re here we might as well…

But my favorite part was when Asher and I were soaking our feet in the bathtub together, a soothing retreat for our tired feet. Little moments like this remind me of how good I have it, and I’m grateful for every single second I’m with this man. I love him something furious. I just do.

The thing about Asher is that he’s secretly the funny one. He’s quick with his responses to my snarky comments, and his responses are always the right amount of silliness said in the most monotone way possible. He doesn’t hold back, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

With him, I laugh more.

With him, I trust easier.

With him, I love harder.

I don’t know what will happen to us in the future; I know better than to try to force my fortune. What I do know is that right now, right this second, he’s better than anything I could ever hope for. Three years may seem long, but it’s flown by with him by my side, and I want this to be it for us, not yet, but yes.

Ten years from now, I see us in a different, bigger home in the city, surrounded by our too many books and the weird knick-knacks I love collecting from here and there. I see us adding a dog to our little family, an addition we’ve been aching for, and possibly a chubby baby, napping quietly while our beloved cat watches over him or her very carefully, tail flicking every few minutes.

But for now, I find joy in being just us, speaking our own language and making up our own rules in our own home. 

I had never felt more alone in my life.

It was two in the morning, and my apartment was completely dark except for the barely functioning lamp that resides next to my bed. The air had a strong March crisp to it, and there was an occasional breeze that crept into my bedroom.

I had just finished Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro, and the last few pages sunk deep into my heart. I sat in bed and held the book carelessly in my hands, feeling so… temporary.

Questions raced through my mind in a complete frenzy as I sat completely still. My breathing became an unbearable movement in my body, rapidly rushing back and forth like it was looking for an escape from this prison. I didn’t know what or who I was searching for, but I knew that I just wanted someone permanent and tangible – just someone there.

All the security I felt before from the people in my life flew out the window, and at that moment, I felt like I was grasping onto nothing. Who can I call at this hour who would be willing to listen to my insecurities about my relationships? Who would even understand this panic that snuck in while I was consuming the last few pages of this book? I searched frantically for a face in my mind, but nothing: blank pages, dark spaces, empty hearts.

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