"I wouldn't change a thing."

It was Indian Summer on the coast five years ago. I was in my boyfriend's room, sprawled on his bed, twisting his hair. He was pouring his heart out to me, telling me why he loved me so much. 

I have genetic health problems that leave me in pain and incapable of doing all the things we once did together. Our weekend hikes and our sunny days spent combing the beach for hours, searching for the best shells and rocks had diminished. Our time together was spent indoors, doing low impact activities, like watching movie after movie or drawing together. It affected my self-esteem and sense of worth, but also made me feel insecure about where our relationship would go if I couldn't do the fun things we loved to do anymore. 

I was watching the dust motes swirl in the sunlight coming through the window, listening with a heavy heart to his proclamations of love.

I said there were things I wished I could change, and told him my degenerative health was something I think both of us would change if we could. He turned and looked me dead in the eye, and said something I'll never forget. 

"The struggles you've experienced with your health might not be the funnest or anything, but they've made you the amazing person you are today."

I thought about how there's no telling who I'd be without these problems. 

He lifted my chin so I'd stare him in the eyes.

"Nothing. I wouldn't change a thing."