Eight Years Later

“You married me and I broke,” I said dramatically between tears as you rubbed my back and nursed me back to health, feeding me medicine and soup and stocking up on tissue from the hotel… on our HONEYMOON. I was happy that my being sick only lasted through the first few days, and we still had the rest of our trip through the Caribbean coughing-fit free. And then, because I didn’t feel like I contributed enough wrench-throwing into our plans… I went ahead and threw out my back during a game of water volleyball with the friends we’d met along the way.

Last night as we were settling in to bed while I chewed on pain killers like they were candy and rubbed cream on my neck to help, I laughed when you said it felt like our honeymoon on repeat, minus the coughing, of course. And then I fell asleep as you rubbed my back in an effort to nurse me back to health… again. Eight years later, today, you’re still the stronger half of me, the better half. You’re an amazing father to our children and motivator to us all. Thank you for eight years of back rubs, breakfasts (otherwise there’d be numerous mornings that I’d have gone without it), beautiful sunrises and sunsets, together.

I love you, babe, and Happy Anniversary. Here’s to many more…