I thought we wouldn’t be together on your birthday. I thought you’d be in another time zone, nine months between us until you’re home.
I catch a glimpse of you on the couch reading–Baxter is sleeping on your leg, and Maybelline is sprawled on the other couch. I love our family. I love how you care for us.
I love how you wait in bed for me every night, fighting sleep as I edit a batch of images from a recent photoshoot. You do this even though you have to wake up two hours earlier than I do.
I love how you tell Baxter and Maybelline good night like they’re small children.
I love how you wake up cheerful on weekend mornings, actually every morning. Oftentimes too early for my taste, but you start the day off smiling and in turn, so do I.
I love how you would drive 45 minutes just to share a meal with me. And you still let me have the last bite on your plate.
I love your jokes, your ambition, your street-smarts and book-smarts. I love how you tell me that you love me every day. It doesn’t get old. Ever.
Happy Birthday, my love. I scheduled fireworks to go off on your birthday just for you. 😉
I love you.
Always,
Wifey