Knock, knock


This guy.

This is the photo I have saved in his contact information on my phone because it epitomizes so much. The goof. The laughing. The adventures. The hugs. How far he's come -- and we've come -- since the day we met. 

The day we met. It was one year ago today. June 6, 2013. He was the stranger who unexpectedly knocked on my door that afternoon, looking for information about my apartment. Apartment 6. He'd be moving in when I moved out a couple months later.

That's how we met. A stranger simply knocked on my door on an afternoon I happened to be home. A chance meeting. Within a few days, we got together for a beer in my neighborhood -- what would be his new neighborhood. Within a couple months, I moved out of my longtime apartment No. 6, and he moved in. By then he'd also taken up residence in my big, old, beating heart. 

It's incredibly cliche to admit that "the year went by fast," or that we've been through "so much." But those are facts. From the moment I told my mom about the "not ugly" stranger (of course I did) who knocked on my door, to this morning when I kissed him goodbye before leaving for work, we've evolved into two people who've grown to complement one another in beautiful ways that were impossible one year ago.

There have been moments -- oh, there have been moments -- when giving up and walking (far, far) away seemed like the easiest option. He's stubborn, but I'm persistent, and we worked our way through the obstacles, even when it felt like an uphill battle. We learned, we became better people for each other, and on the other side of the obstacles stood adventures and happiness and joyful memories and a future. 

So here we are, a year out from the day he knocked on my door. We're about to sign a lease for our own place, together, thanks to the little apartment on East Wilson Street that held all the fate. 

To celebrate, Travis had a photo of the apartment door framed for us to hang in our new home later this summer. It's the absolute perfect way to commemorate the day and our story. It's my favorite one to tell. 

I'm glad the story is about him.