(If you want the full “how we met” moment and a post dedicated entirely to him, head over to Six Years, One Love Story, and a Husband I’ll Never Get Over after this.)
The candle next to me is flickering like it knows something, the air has started whispering “fall,” and I’m sitting here heart full, hair in a bun and feeling like the main character of a cozy little story I never want to end.
This week marked six years with my husband. One of them married, all of them pure magic. We celebrated on Sunday at a Brazilian steakhouse (aka the land of never ending garlic bread and grilled pineapple that tastes like a dream). I wore my sage green dress the one that makes me feel like a vintage perfume ad and he looked at me like I was the main event. Not just for the night but all the time.
He’s funny. The sneak up on you mid sip kind of funny. The kind that turns boring moments into scene stealers.
I married my best friend. But more than that I married the person who makes the world feel soft, safe and more like home. We’re not just in love we’re right. And on nights like this in the hush of candlelight and after dinner sweetness I find myself looking at him and thinking, somehow the stars got this one exactly right.
Work wise? I think I’ve finally found my groove. Still fun, still charming, and still giving background character in a Hallmark fall movie, which let’s be honest is exactly the vibe I’m going for.
And somehow this is my final post of August. There were meltdowns (WordPress, I’m looking directly at you), but there was also so much joy. There’s something about sitting down each week and putting a little love note out into the world that feels equal parts vulnerable and magical. Like handing your journal to a stranger and hoping they see something beautiful in it.
September is knocking and I’ve already cracked the door open. My sweaters are ready. My Pinterest is fully transitioned. The festive part of my heart the one that counts down to cinnamon scented mornings and twinkle lights is starting to wake up. I can practically smell October’s pumpkin spice and December’s pine trees and don’t even get me started on the first snow. Cozy is coming and I’m already emotionally lighting a thousand tiny bulbs in celebration.
So here we are:
One anniversary dinner.
One soft green dress.
One cozy flickering candle.
And me romanticizing every last drop of August before it slips quietly into September.
