Finally, he lost patience with the charade, and demanded that we either start dating, or he couldn't continue to hang out with me all of the time, and desperate not to lose him, I agreed. That was 3 August 2013, which I know, because it was the last time we went to play squash. And the day we met, 13 February 2013, is replaced by 3 August 2013, which is replaced by 18 March 2014 when we got engaged. Which in turn will fade into the distance when we get married on 22 August 2014.
But I can't forget a single one.
I can't forget the day I met him, when I was house-hunting. He was at the bottom of the stairs, outside the block, hands full of grey plastic grocery bags. And as we were introduced, we argued about rival airlines, I, how mine was better, and he, how another was faster, and so on, and so forth. And I thought he was cool and that I would like to meet him again.
I can't forget the day I started to mouth the words "I love you" but was too confused to let it out.
I can't forget the last time we went to play squash. How we sat outside the squash court after the game and argued about our future. What if I had turned him down? Would I ever have seen him again?
And I especially can't forget the day that he held me in his arms in the dusk, with the Wicklow mountains silhouetted in the background. The moment that he asked me to marry him.
And soon, in 4 short weeks, I will walk down the aisle and look into his eyes and say "I do" and from the bottom of my heart say "I love you".
Which of course brings me to the poem that has been in my head for weeks now:
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day’s Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.