For some reason, I always feel the most introspective on airplanes. I think it's something about the way the world looks from that far up... Knowing that there are hundreds of thousands of lives and stories you're passing over from 30,000 ft. up. With your feet on the ground, you don't always get such a sense of wonder. Your life is your life and you operate within the confines of what's ahead of and around you. But from that high above it all, it makes everything feel huge and your world feel so small. It makes you think about the things that matter, and the things that fall out of focus. It has always given me an overwhelming sense of breathlessness and of hope and wonder.
Before Grady, I used to stare out of airplane windows imagining what it would feel like - what my life would look like- once I found my person. I'd think about the conversations we'd have and the things we'd have in common; what his family might be like and how he'd fit into mine. I'd think about how I might meet this person... where I needed to go and what I needed to do in order to be the one that he was looking for too. For such a long time, my friends all had what I wished so badly for, and I felt the ache the strongest when I was flying from place to place.
And now I'm here, and I look back and I laugh because life never goes how you think it will. That's what makes it so great. I couldn't have dreamed Grady up if I tried. I couldn't have somehow planned out all the wonderful things about him, and I couldn't have dreamed up his flaws. I couldn't have possibly known then, staring out those windows over such a vast space, that the person I hadn't met yet - my person - would be a combination of all the best things I didn't even know I needed.
Lately, I have found myself trying to think back to the first time I realized I loved him. I know I said it out loud two Octobers ago as we laid there on his parents' living room floor, daring each other to be the one to say it first. I also know that I knew it long before that. I've been wracking my brain for weeks trying to recall that one moment, worried that maybe I had forgotten it already. But for the life of me, I couldn't put my finger on exactly when. It wasn't one of those light bulb moments like you see in the movies. And then, a few days ago on my morning walk with Norm, it hit me. There isn't one moment or event or gesture... It has been a combination of all of the tiniest things that snowballed into this one glaring truth: that I have never loved or been loved like this before.
It's crazy to think that in a few short months, I will have officially made two whole trips around the sun with Grady. If you had told me back at the start that we'd still be going between Indy and Chicago two years later, I would probably have burst into tears. Long distance is not for the faint of heart. Everyone was right when they told me that it would be hard... But what I have come to find out is that it's also not. Somehow over the course of thousands of drive miles and countless FaceTime dates, the distance got easier and we got stronger. I grew into a more confident and independent version of myself. And we grew together into a strong, well-balanced pair.
I thought I loved him back on the 3rd of October in 2014 when we finally said it out loud. Then I thought I loved him after we made it through our first big fight. Then it was the next thing, and the next. And now it makes my heart feel so full it could explode because every time I think I love him, all of a sudden I love him more. And it makes me so happy and excited for whatever comes next, because I know that as good as my life has been, life with Grady will keep getting better. Nothing is perfect. But I think that's what makes all the small, seemingly insignificant moments and words and gestures mean so much more. It's perfect imperfection.
Before Grady, I used to stare out of airplane windows imagining what it would feel like - what my life would look like- once I found my person. I'd think about the conversations we'd have and the things we'd have in common; what his family might be like and how he'd fit into mine. I'd think about how I might meet this person... where I needed to go and what I needed to do in order to be the one that he was looking for too. For such a long time, my friends all had what I wished so badly for, and I felt the ache the strongest when I was flying from place to place.
And now I'm here, and I look back and I laugh because life never goes how you think it will. That's what makes it so great. I couldn't have dreamed Grady up if I tried. I couldn't have somehow planned out all the wonderful things about him, and I couldn't have dreamed up his flaws. I couldn't have possibly known then, staring out those windows over such a vast space, that the person I hadn't met yet - my person - would be a combination of all the best things I didn't even know I needed.
Lately, I have found myself trying to think back to the first time I realized I loved him. I know I said it out loud two Octobers ago as we laid there on his parents' living room floor, daring each other to be the one to say it first. I also know that I knew it long before that. I've been wracking my brain for weeks trying to recall that one moment, worried that maybe I had forgotten it already. But for the life of me, I couldn't put my finger on exactly when. It wasn't one of those light bulb moments like you see in the movies. And then, a few days ago on my morning walk with Norm, it hit me. There isn't one moment or event or gesture... It has been a combination of all of the tiniest things that snowballed into this one glaring truth: that I have never loved or been loved like this before.
It's crazy to think that in a few short months, I will have officially made two whole trips around the sun with Grady. If you had told me back at the start that we'd still be going between Indy and Chicago two years later, I would probably have burst into tears. Long distance is not for the faint of heart. Everyone was right when they told me that it would be hard... But what I have come to find out is that it's also not. Somehow over the course of thousands of drive miles and countless FaceTime dates, the distance got easier and we got stronger. I grew into a more confident and independent version of myself. And we grew together into a strong, well-balanced pair.
I thought I loved him back on the 3rd of October in 2014 when we finally said it out loud. Then I thought I loved him after we made it through our first big fight. Then it was the next thing, and the next. And now it makes my heart feel so full it could explode because every time I think I love him, all of a sudden I love him more. And it makes me so happy and excited for whatever comes next, because I know that as good as my life has been, life with Grady will keep getting better. Nothing is perfect. But I think that's what makes all the small, seemingly insignificant moments and words and gestures mean so much more. It's perfect imperfection.
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