The Luckiest
My darling husband’s birthday is this weekend. I’m posting this a little early because I’m running off to Quilt Retreat and leaving him all alone. I feel awful about it, but what can I do? Maybe if his parents had planned a little better 26 years ago we wouldn’t have this problem.
A few months ago Dave and I took Grandma Toronto home after Sunday dinner. When we arrived at her tiny apartment she started to show me the pictures hanging on her wall; family photos, weddings, graduations. And then she pointed to the large picture in the middle. “That one there is my dear husband,” she said with tears in her eyes. “He was the kindest, sweetest, greatest man I’ve ever known.”
I think about that all the time, about how lucky she is. I suspect that not everyone is lucky enough to be married to the person they think is best in all the world.
I guess I’m a lucky one.
Happy birthday, Burrito! You are the kindest, the sweetest, the best, and I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to be spending my life with you. I love you madly.
Always, M