Once again, I am gone on our anniversary, and once again, I’m off with Marie instead of home with you. I know you’ve told me it’s okay, but I do wish I could have been there with you. You know I’ll miss you the whole time I’m gone, that I will be having fun but would rather be at home watching Paranormal State with you and marveling at the size of Ryan’s ego and their complete inability to resolve anything. I’d love to be home giving you more cooking lessons, going out to a movie or to dinner to celebrate. Instead I’ll be on a train drinking wine with Marie.
We’ve been married 14 years this year. Fourteen! Holy cow. It seems like it was just yesterday we wee babes were trotting down the aisle, bitching about the heat (80 degrees in October! Early October! What gives?!) and, because we were dorks and did the deed during a school year, worrying about mid-terms. We were living in that Lakeside Dr. apartment where Gulliver was plotting his escape and Mia was a fresh 4 year old. You were DJing your own wedding with CDs, none of them burned, because you couldn’t do that! And mp-what? Old school, man, old school.
I love, love, love being married to you. You are and have been since I met you my best friend. It’s true, on the surface a pharmacist and a romance novelist don’t have a lot of crossover, but we’ve made do, haven’t we? We’ve taught each other to love new things. I gave you macaroni and tomato juice; you gave me Cher. And then of course there is the Small Wonder we made together who isn’t so small anymore.
I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again; all my heroes have a bit of you in them, because they have a bit of me in them too. And as I’ve also told you, when I met you, you weren’t the man of my dreams. You were the man I didn’t even know to dream about, because I didn’t know you could get a partner like that.
Love you so much, sweet baby, and I miss you already. You owe me a date when I get home.