This is what it feels like

After years of wanting to, months of discussing, weeks of prep and many days of shuttling between two worlds, today Minki and I moved into our new apartment.

We had lunch together, dinner together, played around the whole house, felt alone and scared and stressed and maybe a bit sad too, together in our respective spaces.

Nothing that matters comes easy and neither should it. But when important things, essential things, work out, even for a little while, they make it seem like the whole world has gathered around to make you feel like you’re alright.

I know tonight might be hard for one or both of us. Tomorrow might still include new or familiar failures. The days ahead will still be hot, bills will still come due, chronic and long-term diseases will still haunt the mind, the body will still renege on every promise it so valiantly makes.

But there will be these moments too. Of wonder, of respite, of togetherness. And we will sew these moments together into a cosy blanket in all the colours, and in that blanket we will wrap our fears and worries, stresses and dejections, small and big setbacks - until they don’t feel like alien forces trying to strip us of our inner strength.

And soon, one day we will wake up, maybe not at the same time, but to the same morning, kissed by Autumn’s first dew, and we will not remember these days. Because we will have always been there. Minki and me.