I glanced over at him from my seat on the passenger’s side. I don’t remember why anymore. Maybe he said something. Maybe I just felt compelled to look at that moment.

The sun was streaming in every window as we rolled along the highway. I remember exactly what he wore. Jeans and a white, button down shirt. Sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. His left arm rested on the door just below the window, his right arm stretched out to maintain a firm grip on the wheel.

Dark sunglasses could not conceal the look on his face (the one I knew mirrored the look on mine).

Happy. Content. Joyful in the most quiet, peaceful kind of way.

And in that moment, I knew.

Not that we’d move in together in less than a year.

Not that he’d propose that we spend our lives together six months after that.

Not that we’d marry a year past that.

Not that we’d buy our first house together. Travel the world together. Welcome our first child and prepare for our second.

No, I didn’t see our lives unfold in any crystal clear premonition. I didn’t know what it would look like. (Those visions really do only happen in the movies.)

But my heart knew this was different. My heart knew that he was different.

And I knew what it would feel like.

Happy. Content. Joyful in the most quiet, peaceful kind of way.

And it has felt that way. Every day over the eight and a half years since that day in the car. Every day over the six years, today, since I walked toward him, under the loving gaze of our friends and family, and promised him that my hand would be there whenever he reached out for it.

bride and groom

Every day. It feels just as I knew it would feel.


Happy six years to my love and my life.


linking up with All Things Fadra for SOC Sunday.




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