The Love We Celebrate: Anniversaries, Valentine’s, and the Reality of Time

February has always held a special place in my heart.

A month wrapped in love, it holds both our wedding anniversary on February 8th and Valentine’s Day on February 14th. When we got married, I had this dreamy vision that each year, we would escape for a holiday during this week—just the two of us, somewhere beautiful, uninterrupted by the world. A celebration of us, of love, of memories in the making.

Reality, of course, had its own plans.

Life happens—careers, kids, responsibilities, schedules that don’t always align. And that dreamy week away? It’s happened maybe once. One perfect time when we actually made it work. But beyond that, our celebrations have taken different forms: a dinner here, a get away there, maybe a moment stolen between meetings or after a long day. And while I cherish all of it, my heart sometimes longs for that uninterrupted time together—the kind that lingers, the kind that creates new stories instead of just remembering old ones.

I’ve come to realize how deeply my love language is rooted in time and memories. While some find love in words, touch, acts of service, or gifts, for me, it’s always been about moments. About shared experiences. About looking back and saying, “Remember when…?” and knowing that the answer is yes, because we lived it together. That’s where I feel most loved—not in grand gestures, but in the quiet, intentional act of being present together.

And flowers?

My husband has sent me bouquets of gorgeous roses over the years.

I adore them, but not in the traditional way. I’ve never been someone who loves receiving a bouquet at home. For me, flowers are meant to be a surprise from nature—blooming unexpectedly on a walk, catching my eye in a field or by a road. That’s when they feel the most magical, when they remind me that beauty isn’t arranged or planned, it just appears when you’re paying attention.

This year, though, we celebrated in a way that felt truly special and unique to our current chapter in life. We spent it at the Andaz rooftop on the 52nd floor, overlooking Tokyo Tower and catching a glimpse of Mount Fuji at sunset.

Honestly, it doesn’t get any better than this. It was one of those rare, perfect moments where time stood still, and love felt as vast as the view in front of us.

So as another February unfolds, I remind myself that love isn’t about perfectly planned anniversaries or holidays that always happen. It’s in the everyday moments. In the laughter over dinner. In the late-night talks.

In the way we find each other in the middle of busy lives and say, “This is our time, right now.”

Love, after all, isn’t in the things we do—it’s in the meaning we give to them. And even if we don’t get that week away, we always have this: the knowing, the choosing, the loving—every single day.

Munisha xx