Where you go, I’d go. Not just on the sunny days when the road feels easy, but through the storms, the late nights, and the stretches where it feels like we’re walking uphill. I’d stay where you stay, not because it’s convenient, but because you’re the place I’d always choose to call home.
If vows weren’t just words spoken once in front of a crowd, they’d be lived every day in the quiet moments that really matter. They’d show up in the way hands hold tighter when life gets heavy, in the way we find laughter even in the middle of the mess, and in the way we promise, over and over again, to show up for each other no matter how hard the day gets.
Real vows would mean no running when the storms roll in. They’d mean staying steady, fighting for each other when the world feels too big, and finding ways to remind each other that no matter how messy life gets, we’re in it together. They’d be about more than words - they’d be about action: building something that lasts, something that holds even when everything else feels like it’s falling apart.
We’d share the weight, even when it feels unbearable. We’d carry each other’s dreams, even when they feel impossibly far away. We’d fight, not against each other, but for what we’re building, for the life we’ve chosen to create.
And in the end, where you die, I’d die too. Not because it’s poetic or pretty, but because it’s the only place that would ever feel right. That’s what vows should be: not just a promise spoken on one perfect day, but a lifetime lived with love and grit, side by side, through every step of the journey.
If real life followed wedding vows, it wouldn’t be perfect, but it would be real. It would be messy and loud and hard, but it would be ours. And in that, it would be everything.
Save Nothing for the Next Life.