We have been married for ten years, and together for half our lives. Your feet smell and you're terrible at cleaning up, but you go over to my Grandmother's house whenever she needs help with her electronics, and you always volunteer to help a friend, and you go out to the store in the middle of the night when I desperately need a Diet Coke, even though I told you not to buy it earlier when you were at the supermarket. And you make me feel loved. You make me laugh every single day. You still look into my eyes and tell me I'm beautiful, and I feel as though we are 16 again. And 23. And 32. However old we grow, we get there together. However we change, we change with each other. There is no one I would rather parent with, no one I would rather lament to, no one I would rather grow old alongside. Our life together has been filled with tears and laughter and hope and strength and so much love. And it feels like only the beginning.
To my best friend, to my bashert, to the man who forgives my shortcomings and adores my quirks; to the father of my children, and the love of my life; to many more.
