To each their own, when describing relationships. Jason and I met, fell so hard into one another that the worlds that were once separate had collided at full speed. Our old lives disappeared and we created a whole new one - together. Most people seem to look at us and think there is something wrong because we continually spend all our time together, and honestly (seriously) we never get sick of each other. We have the occasional argument, but never about anything of real value - consisting of exhaustion and wanting to do and see more things that we simply do not have time for. Having a baby changed things. Our once just-the-two-of-us time had split into a tiny portion we carve out each night. The real us is madly, deeply, insanely in love. It's a kind of love I try to not share with others because it seems unnatural to love someone so much. I have never seen a happy couple in real life. My parents are still married, and they enjoy spending time together as a family and traveling, but all of the in-between moments seem full of stress and discomfort. The love Jason and I share seems like something to hide because it's foreign to me. It's almost as if when people speak of their relationships they get a sense of joy to share the normalcy of their collective dissatisfaction with relationships in general. The idea of our love sparked as I was putting on makeup moments ago. Jason should be home in a half hour, and I get so excited around this time every day because it's the beginning of our nightly family routine: dinner, long walk, put Phoenix to bed, and then an hour of time we get to spend just us. Yes, we miss sleep for this hour - but it's so, so worth it.