Today is our two year anniversary. I'm writing this the night before. You're at work, I'm home doing something you hate - multitasking on my laptop while also watching TV. I think it's cute that you always want my attention directed in the same place as yours while we are together.
I'm missing you tonight and I always have to remind myself that's a good thing - that we still miss each other.
I asked you this weekend your thoughts on how these two years have gone and you told me I've grown. That's the best compliment you can give me, and that's one of the reasons I like you. You encourage me, believe in me, know me and push me forward.
I often joke with people that you're perfect. It's not true, I know, but some days you're so close to it and it's endearing - and irritating - at the same time.
Did we fight more this second year? As our relationship deepens with time, our conflicts do too, like footprints treading a worn path, the same fights become more accessible, and are filled with more baggage from the last time we covered the same ground.
But just as we've worn out the path of our disagreements, we've also practiced coming back to each other. We show up for each other in new ways. I don't have to physically bite my tongue now when you talk, the way I used to, coming from a family where interruptions were signs of a lively conversation. Now I enjoy giving you room to get your thoughts out, knowing the rhythm of your speech involves pauses and white space. I've learned to like that about you.
Two years in and we're still learning who we are as individuals. I'm learning how to mean it when I say, "the dishes can wait until tomorrow." I'm learning how to communicate my feelings better when you work long hours, instead of bitterly spitting out, "I hate your job." We're learning that our interests can sometimes pull us in different directions, which may be natural, but it's frustrating. We're learning how much effort and intentionality it takes to stay synced up.
Two years in and we're still learning how to connect with one another, without elbowing the other one in the night. I'm still learning what kind of cereal you like and maybe, just maybe, I'm learning to like watching Bobs Burgers with you.
Two years in and on my bad days, you grab my arms to break me out of my emotional tail spin and say the same thing you've said since we started dating: "I'm on your team." I'm usually too upset over something unrelated to tell you how I really feel in that moment - that being on your team is my highest honor. Do you see how my heart swells?
With another year, we've really developed our rhythm and routine. Sometimes that means days are strings of laundry, dishes, work schedules, obligations. But in the midst of it, there is joy and laughter. There's your singing in the morning, making up songs that can be so annoying but I still can't help but laugh. There are days you work late into the night, and I walk over to say hi, and get butterflies seeing you in your black t-shirt.
Two years isn't a very long time. Do you think we've at least graduated from the "Honeymoon Phase," in the public eye? Not because I want to be past it, but because of the condescension that comes from couples who say, "Just you wait..."
Two years in and often I'm fearful of what we have yet to face. What struggles and challenges will life throw at us? Are we preparing ourselves? Did we get married too young? Are we growing apart? You always talk me back to truth. You listen and love.
Our relationship continues to be my biggest motivator. It's the place my imperfections are most exposed, and yet the place I feel most equipped to stand up and try again. Your love for me has freed me from earning and striving, and yet I feel like each day brings new growth and progress.
Jake, two years in and I continue to love you deeper, stronger. Thank you for choosing me. You are my greatest gift.