11 months.

Just recently, a friend kindly reached out to say how happy she is that I found Ashan. How clearly and brilliantly he's added to my life. I asked how I'm different—in what ways I've changed—expecting to hear that I'm more content or satisfied, that I'm calmer or just a bit less crazy.

I thought of all the changes I've seen in myself, all the tiny ways that he's affected me. I thought of the habit where i check out all the cars in detail and the different foods he's introduced. The songs he's shared and the passions he's made me part of. I thought of the ease and the effortless joy he's slowly but surely passed on, the rationality and the fearlessness and the utter lack of anxiety.

I remembered myself before, the uncertainty, the tangible insecurities. In quick flashes I remembered the pattern of hope and heartbreak and the careful caution that inevitably followed. I remembered the trusting innocence, the wild inhibition and self-consciousness, the occasional theatrics.

And I realized, gladly, that I loved that girl, too. That the me-before-Ashan is still part of me now. That she helps me navigate this world every day with all the mistakes she made, all the lessons she learned. I realized that I'd be lost without her, and for a moment I allowed myself the space to miss her.

"How has he changed me" "he hasn't changed me at all, not really. Instead, He's added to me. It's as if he's put a spotlight on the truest, best me that's always been there."

Because to me, that's exactly how love should be. Love should be two separate people who don't lose themselves in each other—don't become one entirely different person, but simply the same two people at their very love-filled best. The very best part of their befores.

I once remember me saying to him "Don't ever let me forget how I'm feeling right now. Please don't let me forget this."

And today as we turn 11 months, I haven't. I haven't forgotten because I still feel that way every day that I'm with him. Blessed. Smitten. Although we did have our own little rough patches on the way, Real love--the best kind of love--makes you feel free to be yourself. Free to let go, hold on, take risks, and move forward. Free to be wildly, absurdly happy. And that I am. I really, really am.

And what i have today is so much more than anything I ever could have imagined for myself. He is more than I ever, ever could have imagined for myself.  And all I keep thinking is: We found each other.

Happy 11 months baba. And most importantly thanks for being you. You’re the absolute tops! <3