That’s an unrelated picture from my roof at sunset. Blessings: counted.

In the few days since the royal wedding, I’ve been in a bit of a funk. I didn’t want to thoroughly acknowledge these emotions while the wedding was actually happening — though I did have a tiny bathroom cry –but during the whole affair,  I couldn’t shake this feeling that  that sort of thing wouldn’t ever happen for me. It was incredibly emotional celebrating Carrie and Simon’s love. They have this deeply solid and mature relationship that I’ve watched blossom over the last 7 years. It’s really beautiful and inspiring. Said bathroom cry was over this, yes, because I was just so happy, but also, I’m ashamed to admit, because after the 900th person asked me where my husband was, when my boyfriend was coming (see also, I was literally the only single person there,) I couldn’t help it. I felt sorry for myself. THERE, OKAY, I DID. Said Sorry for Myself has sort of hung with me for a few days, until I saw this guy at the gym this morning doing one-handed chin ups, his other arm just sort hanging awkwardly at his side. I thought, that’s pretty bad ass. And so, I stared, until I realized that Guy was doing one handed chin ups because the other wasn’t real. It was a disturbingly real fake arm. And there he was, nailing it, working it out, trying to figure out where his (I guessed new) false arm belonged in his new (one armed) life. He was so vulnerable and focused. I watched him til he caught me, and our eyes met,  And with that, I ended said pity party, and fell in love, the transformative kind that lasts for ten minutes.