How I Knew It Was Love

Spoiler: It wasn’t fireworks. It was the little things that stayed.

When I'm writing this, it has offically been a month since my boyfriend and I's year anniversary... They don’t tell you this, but love doesn’t always tap you on the shoulder with a dramatic kiss in the rain.

Sometimes it just… settles in quietly.

I thought I’d know it was love when everything felt bigger—fireworks, epiphanies, violins in the background. But it didn’t happen like that. It happened in soft glances and dumb jokes and moments that felt so safe, they didn’t need a soundtrack.

So here’s how I knew:

I didn’t feel the need to perform.

No mascara. No perfect outfit. No nervous laughter or sentence rewrites. Just me. Soft, messy, honest. And somehow, that was enough.

He saved me the best bite.

Like, without me asking. He just handed it over—the last fry, the whipped cream (and CHERRY!) piece of hot fudge cake, the corner of a deli sandwich with the perfect crunch (ifykyk). And it hit me: love shares its favorite parts.

He remembered the tiny things.

The name of my 3rd-grade teacher. The way I take my coffee (or dont depending on the day!). That I cry during TikTok's that even mention or show a golden retriever. Things I thought were forgettable, he tucked away like treasure.

I didn’t panic when he didn’t text back.

Not because I didn’t care—but because I trusted him. His silence didn’t feel like distance. It felt like comfort. Like space that still held love.

Ordinary things felt romantic.

Grocery shopping? Flirty. Folding laundry? Cozy. Sitting in traffic? A whole spiritual event if he was in the driver's seat. It wasn’t about doing something exciting—it was about doing anything with him.

I found myself becoming more me.

Isn’t that wild? Love didn’t make me shrink—it made me expand. Made me softer, louder, braver. Like I’d been waiting for someone to hold the door open while I stepped into the fullest version of myself.

I couldn’t stop praying for him.

Not in a desperate way, but in a “thank you for this soul” kind of way. His name started showing up in my quiet moments, in between “please” and “amen.”

There wasn’t a single moment. It was a mosaic of little ones—pieced together until suddenly, I was looking at something sacred. Something tender. Something terrifying in the best way.

That’s how I knew it was love.Not because it made my heart race.But because it made it finally slow down.

When you know, you just know.

xoxo, Sierra <3