This isn’t a polished piece. I didn’t outline it, and I probably won’t edit it much. Just a soft brain-dump before the thoughts fade — the kind that comes to you in between deadlines, to-do lists, and moments of stillness.
I don’t know when you’ll read this. I know you visit from time to time, quietly, without saying much. Maybe you’ll find this soon. Or maybe it’ll sit here for a while before it reaches you. Either way, it’s yours.
Before this year began, I swore I wouldn’t entertain anyone. I had just stepped out of something long and heavy, and I figured I needed the kind of space that didn’t leave room for beginnings. I had enough on my plate — single parenthood, shifting paths, healing what had been worn down. I honestly thought I was done — with love, with trying, with starting over.
But then you happened — quietly, unexpectedly, and with no mutuals in between.
What started as harmless daily banter turned into a rhythm we built without even meaning to. Shared playlists, mirrored habits, parallel responsibilities, long work hours softened by little check-ins. And before I could even name it, you were already there — consistently, without grand gestures, without demanding space. You showed up. In all the small ways that counted.
Somewhere between video games I kept losing and remote work sessions filled with companionable silence, I found myself softening. Not because I needed rescuing, but because you made safety feel like a natural state — not something I had to earn.
This year, I promised myself I’d explore. I just didn’t expect that journey to include you. And now, with you beside me, the list of things I want to try, learn, and build keeps growing — not just for me, but for the small human I’m raising.
You and I aren’t perfectly alike — thank God. You’re more logical, better at games, more tactically grounded. I live a little more in feelings and metaphors and half-finished to-do lists. But somehow, our mismatched edges feel like puzzle pieces that were never meant to be identical — just compatible.
We’re both raising kids. Both trying to get it right — or at least less wrong. We speak on stages, love words, chase meaning, laugh at obscure references, and get overwhelmed at random times. And yet, here we are — making space for each other in the middle of all that.
What are the odds?
Things between us aren’t perfect. We’re both still doing the quiet work — healing, building, unlearning, dreaming. But like you wrote once: we stayed. We keep staying. Even when it would’ve been easier to ghost, to fold, to call it too complicated.
And that staying? It counts. Maybe more than anything else.
When you added Daylight by Taylor Swift to our shared playlist, I smiled. Because suddenly, a lot of things made sense.
We’re still figuring things out. It’s a slow, evolving rhythm — one that neither of us is rushing. But I’d be glad to hold your hand as we grow.
I’m thankful you made me realize just how deeply I’m capable of loving — and how freely I want to share that love with you.
So, to you — paqs.me — this is my quiet toast to what we have now. And to whatever else we’re meant to build.
Thank you.
For being my daylight.
For being the calm in my storm.
For being my best friend, my soft place, my current constant.
I know you’re probably still enjoying the afterparty of the Metro East WordPress Meetup as I write this. I hope it’s everything you needed it to be.
Just know this: I’m here. And I see you.
Always.
