Eight months.

Chris and I will be getting married eight months from today.

It’s funny to think about that number. On one hand, it seems like a ton of time. In excited, impassioned moments, it feels as though the date is entirely too far away. What can I say? I love this man, and I can’t wait to be his wife. On the other hand, I know it’s going to be here before I realize it, and I haven’t found my dress or picked out the flowers or decided on the music.

But we still have eight months. I’m trying my hardest to take them as they come.

Chris and I had our first date on the 13th of November a little over three years ago, and have decided to get married on that exact date this year, on our fourth anniversary of dating. For the first three years of our relationship, the thirteenth of every month was about accumulation for me. I counted and collected those months, marveled at how quickly they’d passed but how, at the same time and even more overwhelmingly, it seemed as though we’d always been together. How could it have only been three, four, five months? I watched them add up and I saw them turn into years.

Now it’s different. Today, as I took note of the date on the calendar, I didn’t count back. Off the top of my head this very second, I couldn’t tell you how many months it’s been since we started dating. Instead, I counted forward. Forward to our wedding date. And I had the realization that, during this very unique time in our life, I’ll no longer be watching the months add up. I’ll be watching as they count down to the end of one part of our life together and the beginning of the rest.

It’s a powerful feeling.

Eight months from today, nearly to the minute, I will be exchanging vows with the man that I knew from day one would be my husband. My name will change and my place in this world will forever be altered. Only eight more months. Still eight more months. So much life ahead.

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