I fell in love with him when we were basically kids, back when our biggest decisions were what movie to see and where we wanted to eat. We didn’t know much about forever, but we knew we wanted it together.
And somehow, all these years later… we’re still choosing each other.
But not because it’s been easy. Nope, there have been seasons where love felt more like stubborn teamwork than fireworks. When “romance” looked like hard conversations or taking turns rocking a screaming baby at night.
Still, I love him. Maybe even more because of that.
I love him because he’s seen all my versions.
Teenage me with the way too deep side part. Twenty something me who thought she needed to have it all figured out. Exhausted mom me who sometimes gets overwhelmed and starts making a to do list for me AND him. He’s loved them all without blinking.
I love him because he’s grown with me instead of against me.
We’re not the same people we were in high school and thank goodness. But somehow, we’ve managed to grow in the same direction, even when it meant hard talks, quiet nights, or a lot of grace.
I love him because we still laugh.
Even after all the responsibilities, kids, and chaos, we can still laugh like those two goofy teenagers at the football game. And sometimes that’s what saves us.
I love him because he still chooses me.
Not the 16 year old version. Not the “best self” version. Just me, now with stretch marks and all.
It’s not the kind of love you see in movies.
It’s real, imperfect, steady. The kind that’s built, not stumbled into.
And honestly? That’s my favorite kind.