December 2023 - Loving You Across the Ocean

December arrived quietly after the beautiful chaos of November. Just weeks earlier we had been walking through Madrid together, laughing under the autumn sky of Ávila and meeting the people who had shaped your life. Now winter had settled in and the distance had returned. You were back in Spain, surrounded by your family and familiar streets, while I was in Toronto, returning to work, training, and the cold Canadian winter.

Even so, the distance never truly separated us.

Most days started and ended with each other. Because of the time difference, our lives overlapped in funny ways: when you were waking up in Spain, I was often just about to sleep in Toronto. When you were finishing dinner, I was still in the middle of my day. Our phones became the bridge between those two worlds. Messages, photos, and long video calls filled the spaces between our routines. Sometimes we talked for hours, sometimes just a few minutes, but every day we reminded each other that we were still there.

Life continued around us as well. On December 1st, I went out partying with Alex and Celine’s friends in Toronto. It was one of those nights filled with loud music, drinks, and laughter. Even in the middle of the crowd, I found myself thinking about you, wishing you were there to see the chaos and meet everyone. I imagined how you would laugh at some of them, or how you would probably pull me away from the noise just to talk somewhere quieter.

A week later, on December 9th, I went to watch one of my Muay Thai coaches fight. The atmosphere was electric - the lights, the crowd shouting, the tension before every round. I remember thinking how much you would enjoy the energy of a fight night, how excited you would get watching the technique and the intensity. When the fight ended, I wished you had been sitting next to me so I could explain every detail of what had just happened.

Meanwhile, your days in Spain were full of your own rhythm. You were finishing the school term, spending time with your friends, and visiting Valladolid with Natalia and little Lucía. You sent photos of winter streets, meals, and quiet moments from your days. Even though I wasn’t physically there, I felt like I was slowly learning the small corners of your world.

The most touching moment of the month came with a package.

I had sent you something from Canada as a Christmas present, and both of us kept checking the tracking updates as it slowly made its way across the ocean. When it finally arrived at your house, your excitement burst through the screen. You dropped everything and started sending photos immediately. You asked if you should wait until Reyes Magos to open it, but it had been meant as a Christmas gift, so I told you it was okay. Seeing how happy you were over something so simple made me feel strangely proud and warm.

Christmas itself felt a little bittersweet.

You were celebrating with your family in Spain - a house full of food, traditions, and the familiar warmth of Christmas Eve dinners. I was spending the holidays in Toronto, surrounded by winter and my own routines. Even though we were celebrating in different places, we stayed connected through messages and calls. We told each other what we were eating, what our families were doing, and what the rooms around us looked like.

It made the distance feel a little smaller.

Somewhere during those quiet days after Christmas, we started talking about something deeper. You told me that while driving one day you had been thinking about how strange destiny could be - how we met unexpectedly in Korea, how after that first night we both wanted to see each other again, and how we kept choosing each other even when life placed us in different countries. You said you were thankful we hadn’t let each other go.

I felt exactly the same way.

By then it was clear that what we had wasn’t something casual anymore. Even across an ocean, we were slowly building a life together - one message, one call, one shared day at a time.

As the year came to an end, the atmosphere changed again.

You were preparing for New Year’s Eve in Spain, with family dinners, traditions, and the famous twelve grapes waiting for midnight. You told me about stepping into the new year with your right foot first for good luck. Meanwhile, I had my own plans in Toronto.

On New Year’s Eve, I went out again with Alex and Celine’s friends, this time to a club to celebrate the end of the year. The music was loud, the dance floor crowded, and the energy of the night felt electric. But even in the middle of the party, I kept checking my phone to see your messages.

Because your midnight came first.

While you were sitting with your family, preparing the grapes and waiting for the countdown, I was still hours away from midnight in Toronto. You sent photos of the table, of your goddaughter, and of the celebration around you. We counted down together from a distance.

Six minutes left.

Three minutes.

Then midnight arrived in Spain.

You welcomed the new year with your family, grapes in hand, while I was still dancing in a crowded club across the ocean. And yet somehow, it felt like we were sharing the same moment.

Before the celebrations pulled you away, you sent one last message.

You told me that I was the most beautiful thing that had happened to you that year.

Reading those words in the middle of the noise and music, I realized something simple and certain.

2023 had changed everything.

Because somewhere along the way - between long flights, distant cities, video calls, and late-night conversations - I had found you.

And even with an ocean between us, I knew exactly where my heart was going in the year ahead.