I just moved in with my boyfriend, a rather annoying term for a 41-year-old but there aren’t any clear, less-annoying alternatives.

For two people in their forties, neither of whom have lived with a partner type person in over a decade, this is a big deal.

We’ve had to make room for grief, blow ups, and whoops-didn’t-know-that-was-still-there past trauma along with my dishes and big red chair.

(The cats, on the other hand, have been entirely unaffected. One could even say insultingly blasé. Dear cats: You should be made aware that I am an utter delight to live with. Please be appropriately grateful for the opportunity.) (The cats are not grateful.)

We are a loving, well-matched, and (I have to say it) rather adorable couple.

We also have our share of challenges. Sometimes we fight and I think "Why am I doing this?" And then sometimes he rubs my head when I'm anxious and brings me a pumpkin curry when I'm hungry and I think "Oh, that's why."

It’s the little things, the small daily choices, that make all the difference. That build trust for two people who haven’t been given a whole lot of reasons to trust in the past. We’re like scared cats, inching out from under the bed, like “Hey, maybe this isn’t so bad. Maybe I will survive this. Maybe I’ll even get salmon and belly rubs.”

We’re breaking out of our comfort zones, learning how to live with another human, learning how to be real partners, learning how to be tender with each other’s sensitivities.

It’s not for the faint of heart. Which makes sense because life is not for the faint of heart. Love is not for the faint of heart. Our lives and hearts are growing and strengthening, and I give us credit for that.

So here’s to us. And to you, for whatever ways you’re growing and strengthening and loving right now.