they call her love

The weather has been changing in Northern Virginia - fall is definitely in the air. I know this because at night, the breeze coaxed through my window by my fan is not just cooling my hot skin, it's chilling what's already cold. I know this because when I wake, I'm deep under covers, tucked into pillows and the light is hazy and not quite enough to pull me from my warmth. I know this because I now scamper into the shower, the hot water now serving a purpose to protect me from the day ahead.

I know fall is here by my mood, by the events, by the time. I always seem to want to think more during the fall, preparing for the long haul of winter when I have nothing but intellect to keep me company. Only this time, it will be different because of the man I have next to me.

I have held his hand in mine for almost seven months. SEVEN MONTHS. It feels like an eternity to me, the girl of short relationships and flings. He has put up with my BS, my craziness, my frustration. I have forgiven his tardiness, his absentmindedness, his unavailability. He has made me talk to him. He has let me cry. He has forced me to move outside my comfort zone. He brought me roses for our sixth month anniversary.

We have finally said the Word (or, The Words). And it was painful and it terrified me, it made me doubt us and myself and relationships but we said it anyway. And it's true, and I meant it, and I hope I never stop meaning it or forgetting how much it meant.