One year ago, I met an amazing man.

The things I feel for him could never be contained in a single blog post, and trying to do so would be an insult to his kindness, his love, and the unfathomable zest he gives me for life. So, I won’t mention those things here.

I won’t mention the story of how I think I knew I loved him in October on our very first trip to the zoo when he made me close my eyes as we got close so I wouldn’t “spoil the surprise,” the story of the way he whispered to the startled-looking donkey who refused to budge and managed to coax him over to the fence so he could scratch his head, and the gentleness with which he did it.

I won’t mention our first kiss, how it felt like fireworks had gone off in my heart, and how I stood there stunned for a good two seconds before thinking, Oh, yeah, I should probably kiss him back now.

I most certainly won’t mention our sixth date, when we went to a Greek restaurant and I refused to eat the olives. “I’ll give you a kiss if you try one,” he said, and after thinking about how much I really, really hate olives, I said, “Nah, not worth it,” before breaking into a fit of giggles at the look on his face.

I won’t mention the pure bliss of nuzzling my head into his chest, or the way that he remembers everything that is important, but also the things that are so unimportant and so stupid that they end up being the most important things of all.

But I will mention that I love him. And that for me, right now, at this exact moment, this very point in time, he is heaven.

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