It’s Wednesday night and I’m sitting in the living room on our gray tufted couch. The cats are curled up on the navy ottoman, asleep at my feet. It’s quiet. Except the humming of our white refrigerator and the clicks of your keyboard and mine. Red and blue Anthropologie candles are burning (our favorites) and dinner is in the oven. It’s as typical as typical gets around here.
And that’s my mistake.
Ever, for a second, for a minute, for a moment, thinking any of this is typical or believing it’s normal. It’s not. Not even close. It’s the opposite of that, in fact. Because you, my love, are remarkable. I’ve known it since you smiled back at me in the stands cheering from the track our senior year of high school, a smile that lit up the sky, still lights up rooms, and, more than the Arizona sun, continues to warm my every day. But a smile that happy can’t shine so bright without so much light from within. That’s what you have. That’s who you are. And that’s why my life’s not typical: because you aren’t. You never have been. You never will be. You’ve been joyful from the start, from Birthday Number One, and the best present I could give you is to tell you what a gift you’ve been to me, because the sparkles that everyone else sees are just the specks that flicker from your heart, dance through your soul, reach out and touch the world. They’re just sprinkles of water, not even close to all of who you are. Which is why I’m grateful to God for putting me in the splash zone and giving me a front row seat.
Here’s to many birthdays more, smiles galore, and all the ice cream and cookie butter we can eat.
In the birthday spirit? Celebrate past years with us here:
(Photo by Annamarie Akins)
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