Happy Birthday, Husband!

Dear Husband,

I remember the first time we celebrated your birthday together. We'd just met. There were no presents. It was too early for presents. But there were two of my very favorite things: coffee and conversation. We sat in the big coffee shop. At a small, rickety table. I had a vast mug of coffee in front of me. I'm pretty sure you had a hot chocolate.

And we talked. We couldn't stop talking. We had so much to say.

I don't remember everything about that night. I don't remember the exact words, just that they were boldly and beautifully traded. But I do remember feeling so light, so happy, so alive. I remember thinking about how handsome you are and trying to stifle little girl giggles. I remember marveling at the blue of your eyes and the angle of your jaw. I remember feeling so lucky.

I remember noticing how easy, how effortless, it was to be with you. I remember delighting in the fact that even on a birthday, there was zero pomp and circumstance. That there were no frills. That it was just us.

At our wedding, we danced. We danced a lot. But our first dance is what sticks with me. For all of those lessons, and all that practice, we were absolutely terrible. You stepped on my vast cloud of a dress and I giggled into your arm. There was no grace. But there was so much love. We danced to U2's "All I Want Is You." And I remember even in those hazy and happy moments thinking how true the refrain was.

All I Want Is You.

And time has passed because that's what it does. And now. Things are less simple than they were in that coffee shop on that night. Of course. But things are also leagues more exquisite. Today, just us is a bit different. Today, we have two little girls who are part you and part me. Two little lives to sustain and celebrate. On birthdays. On holidays. On all days.

Today, while you are at work, the girls and I will hold down the fort. We will make cards. We might even attempt a cake. We will wait for you to come home. And when you are home, we will probably do what we do every night. Play a bit. Dance a bit. Laugh a lot. Tonight, like all nights, there will be few frills. Tonight, like all nights, it will be just us. You. Me. Our girls.

But once the girls are asleep, you and I will cuddle on our couch. The old school us. And we will talk. And talk some more. Because years later, we still have so much to say. Much more even. And while you are talking, I will listen, yes, but my mind will be doing its trademark jig - remembering back and bouncing forward - swirling about the profound present moment. A very good moment indeed.

Today you are my birthday boy. And today, like all days, you are also my forever man.

I love you (yes, to tiny pieces),

A

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If you have a moment, feel free to wish my man a very happy birthday!