It’s been 14 trips around the sun since I was married in a little town called Driftwood, Texas. (And no, that’s not the opening line to a country song.)

And it stands, unassailably, as the best decision I’ve ever made in my entire life.

Now I’ll admit that I can be, let’s call it “capricious,” at times.
It’s not unheard of for me to stride into a room and explain that we must all get into the car right now and drive several hours to [some random place] for [some utterly random activity.] And much to her credit, Jen can almost always determine by the look on my face whether this is something that’s an actual imperative, versus just some erratic, weird thing that I thought of while staring out the window two minutes ago.

I also wouldn’t say our life is “easy,” nor would I ever be so bold as to call it perfect. As a matter of fact, there’s a series of of, “Uh-uh-uh! No! No! No!“s (which are prompting angry stomps in reply) coming from the bathroom just behind me as I’m typing this.
There are unquestionably moments when pain and fear and hurt and sadness swirl around and tear at us, sometimes so strong that it’s hard to see anything else. But when we just stop for a moment and hold one another, it creates a calm eye in the center of that storm where we’re anchored against those angry winds. And we’re reminded that, as long as we’re together it’s all going to be okay.

I can’t wait to spend the next 14 years with you, sunshine or storms.

I love you.

j.s.