Dear Meng,

It's been a year. Officially, anyway. Unofficially it started somewhere between a bus seat in January and a bukber in March, and I don't think we'll ever agree on exactly when.

Two years ago you were the new person at the office and I barely knew your name. Then came a first conversation, a kick-off trip where we ended up next to each other on the bus and in the same villa, a first time going out, and what felt like every single bukber that Ramadan.

This year we did Japan, and then Purwokerto, which means you've now seen where I'm from. Thank you for being so easy to bring home.

What I've learned in a year is simple. You make ordinary days better. A normal weeknight dinner with you somehow ends up being the part of the week I remember.

I don't need year two to be bigger than year one. I'd just like more of the same, with you.

Happy anniversary, Meng.

Love,
me