twelve.

We laid in our driveway last night in the early hours of the morning, watching the Persied Meteor Shower, holding hands and keeping warm in the summer air with a blanket. As we watched those shooting stars with our kids long asleep in the house looming at our feet, I was bursting with love for this man. This wonderful father, husband and friend that I'm lucky enough to be married to. It's moments like these, little moments built up over the last twelve years of marriage that create a tapestry of unconditional love, support and friendship that covers us like this blanket we're sharing. We've done a lot in these twelve years. "Time's a 'wastin!" is what we seem to operate by. But within that vigor, there are always these moments that temper our days and time moves in slow motion for a minute, an hour, a second. Staring up at the sky, holding hands in the dark, watching shooting stars. We did this as friends. We did this when we dated. We did this as we walked through years of marriage. We did this since we became parents. And I like to think that we will venture out late at night with our walkers, when we're ninety, and somehow help each other onto that still warm concrete from being sun-soaked all day.  We'll intertwine our old, wrinkly hands together, and watch these ancient shooting stars into the early hours of the morning, just like we've done for the past years and years. Happy twelfth anniversary, my friend. I'm looking so forward to celebrating a lifetime more.