A love letter

Dear T,

It really started nine years ago today, not eight.

You called me at work the day before and said, "Let's go out to dinner tomorrow night." I didn't suspect a thing until you said, "Why don't you choose someplace nice and make a reservation?" instead of "I'm thinking Casa Fiesta."

I was totally on to you.

But you still managed to surprise me.

We've just finished getting dressed, we're standing in our bedroom in our stocking feet...and you get down on the floor.

I immediately think you dropped something. Or threw out your back.

But then you look back up at me and fish something out of your pocket. And you take my hand. And you look into my eyes. And you say wonderful, beautiful words just for me. You ask me a question in that inimitable, boyish way you have. And I forget what to do, because I'm just so happy, and I can't stop looking at your handsome face, so sincere, and yet just a glint of that ornery streak I love so much. And I realize you're looking at me expectantly... Oh! Yes. YES! Yes, I will; of course I will.

Yes.

That might have been the first AND the last time we ate off of a table with a white tablecloth.

Until exactly one year later.

When we did this:

Eight years have gone by so quickly! We've made a lot of mistakes.

But this certainly wasn't one of them:



T, you are the best thing in my life. The best decision I ever made. The most generous person I know. The silliest (with your made-up songs for every situation), the most serious (about football, and the people you love), the most supportive (could.not.make.it.through.one.day.without.you), the smartest (every day you floor me), the most passionate (about me, and our future, and our families, and what you know is right...and football).

And the kindest. Watching the gentle way you care for our sick little one... I can't even talk about it.

I always knew I was capable of taking care of myself, of making it on my own, of going it alone.

But you found a way to let me keep that part of myself and somehow still be my missing piece. The love of my life. My true partner in every sense of the word.

The man who still gives me butterflies every time he calls me "Bunny."

And the man who still makes me laugh by singing songs about my butt, and manages not to roll his eyes when I call today our "Shan-iversary" every.single.year.

The two kids in that picture up there? Wow, could we tell them some stories. They have NO idea about that one thing, for example. And holy cow, that other thing is going to surprise the sh-- out of them.

And even though they knew they'd end up here, still in love, eight years later?

They had no idea it would feel this amazing.

Just think of what we'll have to look back on eight years from now! Probably even that one thing we've been talking about. And in fifty years? We'll definitely have done that other thing by then.

I can't wait.

I love you forever, no matter what.

S