I’ve come to see my single life like the true blessing that it was. Over many years, I learned to be with myself and love the experience of it. My inner child got to reclaim herself. I took so much pleasure in the freedom to be. The hard, sad places taught me how to surrender, and hope, and create. I got to feel and know what it’s like to choose me.As the time spent single turned into time spent solitude — intentional, enjoyable, crafted, present — I now know myself to be whole and complete as the being I am. I grew to hold the belief that whomever I’d partner with would be for the expansion of my already full and flowing life. Not to fill it up, but to raise it up.

Coincidentally, it happens that on the first valentine’s weekend since knowing life with my beloved man, I’ve gone away to be alone. Travelled back to the familiar; cocooning on my own.

I’ve learned that it’s a necessity to do this periodically, although I know that I can resist it. If I’m not conscious, it’s so easy to make it mean something wrong about my level of capacity, commitment, or consideration for others. But the truth is, I love space. I do better when I get it. And by “do better” I really mean: love better.

Life’s changed. It is unequivocally greater now than before. And I am so grateful and ready and open and willing and able. But I write this to remember.

I write to remember not to lose this. Not to stray too long or too far away from my sense of self. Not to lose that childlike wonder. Not to let my head get too noisy that I forgo what helps me feel the lightness and the vastness of my heart.

This weekend I danced freely. I cooked freely. I sat in the silence, cried, walked, dressed up, dreamt. I met the ocean and breathed in the rain. I listened and allowed. I slowed down.

All for me.

For me and so, of course, for you too.

And for him and for us.

And for everything and nothing, and just because.

And so, yes… this is love. Whatever feels light… is love. Remember.