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Friday

So, it’s Friday.

But unlike last Friday, or next Friday, this is the Friday where we live in a sea of doily hearts and construction paper love. Our kitchen table has been painted over in smears of pink and dots of glitter glue. (Evaline has made quite the art project for you, by the way.)

It’s the Friday of gifting enough chocolate to carry people from the empty wrappers of Christmas through to the wealth of Easter morning.

It’s the Friday where I’ve forgotten to buy anything for anyone, and all I have is words to say and time to spend.

But, I know you well enough to know that you don’t mind.

And, I know that, you know that, I know, that flowers will wilt, that cards will be lost or thrown away (eventually) and that I won’t eat the candy.

I know. I know.

But still. It’s Friday.

And like every Friday since the day we met,

I’m in love.
(cue The Cure.)

I think I first told you in the Fish Bowl (or Colonels Coffee House, whatever it was called at the time) and we were sitting on the couch, watching an episode of Friends. I leaned over and told you I had something to tell you, and then you told me the same. We didn’t even really need to say the words.

Hardly the stuff of romance novels, but, there was something in the moment – in that plain, ordinary, quite probably the least movie-like-moment of my life – where we were both just knew.

In all the world, of all of the possible people, you were the one.

However many years-and-mistakes-and-ups-and-downs-and-late-nights-and-early-mornings-and-sucker-punches-and-moments-of-forgiveness-and-happily-ever-afters later,  you still are.

And you have loved me so well. Not by giving me gifts or by flattery, but by the work of love. You are patient when I’m irrational (it happens, I can admit it.)  You are expertly silly when I’m worried. You are expertly comforting when I am scared.  You forgive me when I’m foolish, and you beg me forgive myself.

All that, and you handle the spiders, the overflowing garbage, the vomit and diapers and septic gone wrong too.

I’m not saying you’re perfect, but you’re my favorite (and perfect for me.)

So.

Happy Friday.

(And, thank you.)

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