Today is May 6, 2013. At this moment one year ago, I laid in a hotel bed next to you, the two of us fast asleep and more comfortable than we could have hoped to feel with one another. Months spent trying to make a relationship work from a thousand miles away. Pennsylvania to Florida. Philly to Tampa. One twitter account to another.
Think about that.
In one year’s time, I’ve gone from a visit ahead of two months of anticipation to humbling myself thinking about this while I work an overnight shift at a retirement community I would have never even heard of had I not decided one night that I had to buy a plane ticket to meet you in person.
We spent months after that texting all night. All day, even. The vast majority of our relationship was spent with an iPhone in each of our hands somewhere in our parent’s houses while we wished we could just be in the same room as one another.
That was so damn hard. This is so damn easy.
Now, one year after I walked down that airport terminal and saw you sitting there waiting for me, curled up and nervous on a chair, I can write this while you sleep comfortably in our apartment, our annoying cats likely running amok in the living room as you slumber.
All because one day, you followed me on twitter.