The Ex Vows

by Jessica Joyce

“When I say I’m still in love with you,” he says quietly, “I mean today and yesterday and this entire week. I mean at Nick and Miriam’s wedding and I mean for the past five years.” If possible, he gets even quieter, but now he’s closer so I get every word. “When I say I’m still in love with you, I mean the first time I saw you and right now. I mean every second in between.”

Because I’m so in love with you that I feel like I can’t breathe. I think it every time I look at you, every time you let me in or you laugh or you look at me like I mean something to you.

I love him because he finds beautiful moments even in the hardest of times. Because of his determination and dedication to the things and people he loves.

Because he’s pushing through his anxiety with the same commitment he gives everything. Because of his terrible coffee and his quiet mouth and that crease he gets between his brows when something annoys or perplexes him. Because of his unshakable belief in airport snacks and his sweet little puzzle addiction. Because he assigns nicknames to the people he wants to keep.

It’s a privilege to have someone trust you enough to show you those pieces of themselves, the most vulnerable and tender, the least polished. It’s a show of trust to let you see them first thing in the morning, in the middle of a panic attack, right after they’ve cried.