A Look Back

On my run tonight, I was partially distracted. With thoughts of weddings and babies (not yet, though), family and friends. And then my thoughts drifted to our love story — how it came to be, how it continues to unfold. And I was led to revisit some of those early memories of this relationship that has forever changed my life — in the best way possible.

I keep a separate, private blog where I write more personal posts for myself. In it, there are years and years of history. Of love and a broken heart. Of happiness and sadness. But, most importantly, it is home to the chronicle of my relationship with Mr. B — and all of the thoughts (overthinking) that went along with it in the early days.

Mr. B and Me

One of our first pictures together … he told me he didn’t like to have his picture taken. Funny, I couldn’t get him to stop smiling for the camera.

When I looked back over some of those posts today, I find it very obvious that this love was the one my life was meant to have. Take these posts from Sept. 25 last year (the day after I met Mr. B):

  • I just want to stay in bed all day, knowing that (most likely) nothing that happens today can top yesterday.
  • It Is a lot easier to open your heart to new, exciting adventures when it’s not full of resent and sadness. Learning how to forgive and move on is one of the best gifts you can give yourself.
  • Today makes me grin. Ear. To. Ear.
  • Sometimes things happen that are so good I don’t talk about them. I just want to keep the goodness to myself.

And then there was the post that I wrote as I was sitting in the airport, on my way to London for a week, shortly after meeting Mr. B:

  • In the span of one week, I had two first dates. One was, meh. One has turned into something that feels almost magical. I almost don’t recognize myself — skipping and humming and daydreaming.
  • My stomach hurts all the time, like I just want to throw up — are these the “butterflies”?
  • With about 300 emails back and forth and countless hours on the phone and texting, I know more about this man in the span of three weeks than the one I dated for three years and shared a home with.
  • I’m a planner, a list-maker, a look-before-you-leaper, and all I want to do is jump and dance and dive right in.
  • This trip to London, this one-week hiatus from this whirlwind experience is both sad and welcome. I’ll miss the morning phone calls and the last “good nights” but I think the space, the time to think will be good.
  • Is it possible to like someone this much so soon? Is this kind of a connection real, or is it going to fade faster than a firefly? Does it matter? Why can’t I just enjoy the ride while it lasts — no matter how long that will be?

And then there was the post I wrote on Oct. 10 — the first time Mr. B made his appearance on my blog.

After years of wishing my life could be better, I found myself wonderfully content exactly where I was — blessed anew every morning I woke up, able to have another day.

And then something happened that knocked me off my feet. Something that stopped my life and completely changed the game. I met Mr. B. Funny how when you truly care for yourself, you open yourself up to be cared for by someone else. Not because you need it but because you are worth it.

I truly believe that when you send love out into the world, it’s returned to you — 5-, 10-, 15-fold. Now, I’ve given my fair share of love into the world. But this? It certainly feels like more than my 15-fold.

So here I sit, just a month after meeting the person I never knew I should be looking for, wondering how it all happened. Life is moving fast — spinning and turning and sweeping me up. This list-maker, spreadsheet-lover, day-planner-adorer is finding herself lost in the moment. She’s trying hard to stay out of her head and live life as it comes. It’s throwing her off balance and taking her outside of her comfort zone. But you know what? It’s the best feeling in the world.

It’s funny. Mr. B still makes my heart skip a beat when I see him after a long week apart, the world spinning under my feet until he sweeps me up in his arms in that first “welcome home” hug.


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