Happy Birthday my Love!

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Sweet Jesus we look so young!

I met my husband 9 years and 11 1/2 months ago (let’s just call it 10 years, hmm?) at Greensboro College. We had both decided, for our own reasons, to pursue a Bachelors of Music Education degree.

We first met at marching band camp, for the college. We did not speak then, we did not truly speak until we were all asked, as freshmen, to sign a deceleration to be honorable and true in our studies. I remember sitting by Sara-Ann, a friend I had met at campus connection (a pre college camp as it were), in the school’s theatre. I saw him, sitting a few rows ahead of us. I recognized him from camp and saw he was sitting alone looking broody. I called out what I thought was his name, which it was, and tried to engage him in conversation. I was unsuccessful, and declared to everyone around me, that he and I would be friends. He laughed and went about his business.

We did become friends. I felt there could be something more, although his first year he dated a girl back home. As he was attached, I discovered dating (I was that girl in school everyone saw as a motherly person, not dateable. Those college guys thought differently) . I knew I was attracted to him through it all but, he didn’t seem interested. So I dated. There were a couple of nice and not so nice young men, willing to take me out and I was willing to go out, so I did.

It wasn’t until an extremely foolish night of drinking that we declared our attraction to one another, and then awkwardly, went our ways with our other, current, romantic interests.

We both broke it off with these people (over the summer), which I believe there were no hard feelings, and over the summer, we talked sporadically.

We started our Sophomore year as friends and after being told I was “too tall,” to which I naturally lashed back with “you are too short,” and I promptly started dating again. Someone, come to think if it, shorter than me.

I started dating a man I hope to never speak with again, whom seemed the perfect match.

Oddly enough, this upset Ryan and I was actually quite glad. This in turn told me things were not so perfect with this other guy. After breaking it off with the other guy, Ryan and I began to date though he would not call it that at the time. Because… he was a jiggly puff. (Things with the other guy became creepy after that… Even though we had supposedly broken it off on good terms)

We dated, we moved in together with a good woman named Mica and learned about being adults. I learned I wasn’t very good at it. I improved over time luckily!

We met opposition from others about our relationship during this time. Both of us had friends that were not 100% keen on us being together.

Time passed though, and Mica got married and graduated (and of course went to live with her husband), and Ryan graduated too, we moved in with another good friend, Matthew.

We drove Matthew up the wall to be sure! Matthew actually suggested to the both of us, being together 5 years at the time, it was time we “played house.” (I should also mention I graduated halfway through our 6th year. I had to quit school for a semester for health and finical reasons. No I was not with child though that was the rumor. Very cruel one at the time, because I was told I could not have children. I believed it too)

We agreed. Ryan and I learned a great deal about one another living together, just the two of us.

We are messy cluttered people but, I want to fix it and he wants it to be fixed.

He wanted biological children and I wanted any children, biological or not.

He learned about my home life with my parents and I learned about his loving family.

The list can go on. Another time perhaps.

In our 7th year dating, I was offered a teaching job. I thought “This is it. If we truly are two people who love and respect one another, he’ll follow.”

And he did, without hesitation. In our 8th year he proposed. End of year 8 beginning of 9 we married and now, year nine still, we have an 11 week old baby.

Ryan’s birthday is today, and though I lost a dear friend on this same day (many years ago to a drunk driver), I can only think of good things about him and her.

My life is full. I truly have everything I ever wanted as a girl (sans the money because, every poor girl dreams of being well off when she’s older, it’s cannon!).

My husband loves and accepts me for who I am, with all my bulky baggage.

He was willing to get cats for me, that was such a thing at the time!

He is a person I can count on, talk with, and complain to.

He is the person who helped me believe in having a family, and helped me make that a reality this year.

He has selflessly taken me to hospitals, specialists, and imaging centers, for the past 8 years at least.

He never complains about the stuff that matters, and works hard for his family. He makes hard choices for us too.

He’s not perfect. I do enjoy our arguments and lately I want to throttle him, when he sleeps through baby cries (in the middle if the night) (this too shall pass).

But I love him. He is wonderful and has made me whole. I think he is the missing bit of my heart and soul (from that lovely story).

Happy birthday my Love. May we spend another 80 plus years together!

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