One year, home
On love that arrived quietly—and changed everything
Today marks one year since my boyfriend and I officially became a couple. This has been the most significant relationship of my life, not because of spectacle, but because of how deeply and gently it has reshaped me. What follows is something I felt compelled to write—to name the moments that made a home out of two people.
there are moments that become talismans—the yellow roses ricardo carried across the span of cities after only three dates, two dozen blooms the color of early light, my favorite flower. from oakland to san jose he drove, the distance collapsing under the weight of a gesture so deliberate it seemed to reorganize the air between us.
by our fifth meeting, in the dying days of november, i had wrapped one of my favorite novels, siddhartha, in paper chosen with care, the book a kind of map i wanted to place in his hands. it lives now on our shared shelf, spine nestled against spine, the way our lives have learned to rest against one another. afterward, he gave me two polaroids of those same roses, their petals pressed into permanence. i carry them still, tucked behind the clear case of my phone—a secret kept close to my palm, a reminder that some things are worth holding onto.
months later, official in the way that makes the world feel both smaller and more infinite, we sat on a beach asking questions designed to excavate the truth. “how would you describe this?” i asked, meaning us, meaning the unnamed thing we had built in the space between two cities, two people.
“home,” he said.
the year has been composed of such moments—some grand, unforgettable, but most small enough to slip through the cracks of memory if one isn’t paying attention. remembering to order his meal without tomatoes. the sound of him leaving our bed at dawn to return with my mocha, still warm, so i might read in that golden half-hour before the day demands us both. the wordless negotiation of dishes after exhaustion has claimed us, each of us clearing them simply because we know the other dreads the task.
this is the love i have learned: peaceful, steady, quiet. not the tempest i once imagined but something more sustaining—a love that asks nothing more than to exist beside you, to witness and be witnessed. how strange that something so simple should feel so rare.
what an improbable gift—to be seen in one’s entirety, to be known down to the minor preferences and unspoken fears, to be tended to with such deliberate tenderness. the future remains unwritten, its pages blank and waiting, but i know this: i have been changed by this love. transformed in ways i am only beginning to understand.
love,
banki 🤎
Thank you for reading. I appreciate the time you’ve taken to read this, and the time you are giving to support independent writers. If this piece moved you or made you think, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments or directly at anbhanot@gmail.com. Dialogue is what makes this community so valuable. I hope to see you again.
As if this note comes out of the layers of your heart. Well felt , well written
As someone who has yet to experience this type of romantic love, this was a dreamy and aspirational read. You write beautifully. Thank you for sharing and congratulations. xo