Today is a very special day, as it is Andy’s birthday. And not just any birthday – the big 5-0. Yes, if you can bring yourself to believe it, my husband is fifty years old. Luckily, I’m not one to have any hang-ups about age – or age-differences in couples – so the thirteen year span between us averages out when you consider our respective maturity levels. As for reaching the mid-century mark, Andy seems the same to me. As per his request, we’ll be having a low-key day and night at home, in which I’ll cook him the very first meal I ever cooked him, and I’ll force myself to sit through whatever video he wants to watch.
Sometimes Andy seems to get short shrift here (it is, after all, my blog) but he is ever-present, and one of the stalwart forces that gets taken for granted. On this day, I am reminded of all that he has given to me, and to our life together. I wouldn’t be who I am without him – and all that I’ve ever done here is due largely to everything he’s ever done for me. And so, to the kindest, gentlest, funniest, handsomest, and best man I’ve ever met, Happy Birthday. I love you, Andy.
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