It's rainy and cool as I leave for work this morning. The sun isn't up yet, and neither are Dean and Nicole. I've got a bus and train to catch so I can babysit a sound board out in the north burbs. I 34 and still not sure what I want to be when I grow up. Lately, I've been thinking about how my life would be different if I would have had better advice in high school about career options. But there is one thing that I'm sure of. Just one.
Nine years ago today, I married a woman who makes me complete. When we said "for better our for worse", we had no idea how bad worse could get. Yet we made it through. And even now, though the stresses are smaller, they are still constant. But we still manage to make each other laugh. There are little things she does that I know are just for me, and no matter how hard things get, I never wonder if I made the right choice. I've questioned almost everything else in my life, but not her.
I know I haven't been the ideal husband all the time, and yet she has taken my failings and foibles in stride and kept me on the right side of sanity more than once. She has half of my heart, and sometimes I've needed her to hold the whole thing to keep it safe when I couldn't.
Thank you, my love. I wouldn't be who I an without you. And who I am is someone I'm happy with only in the context of you. You have been my friend for twenty years and my wife for nine. You're made those years an amazing adventure and I can only hope we're still warming up for even more to come.
I love you.