Eight Years

My husband and I joined hands and forces eight years ago today. The weather here is similar today. Only more humid. 

We had fresh donuts. Only Ben and I didn’t get any. 

Love was in the air. Bobby pins in my hair. Lots of bobby pins. There was much rejoicing. 

I will refrain from saying that we didn’t know what we were getting into. Too often said, that one. Instead I will claim that we did know. We knew we would be together when we took on whatever came our way. All for one and one for all. And other corny phrases. 

My husband keeps our house clean. He keeps us laughing. He keeps us in the know about all things sports and politics. He is intuitive. Observant. Thoughtful. 

When I was pregnant and focused almost solely on BGL and her well-being, he was focused on me and mine. We balance each other. He keeps me sane. 

Today’s celebration consists of my husband holding our daughter for the first time. He came down with a cold and horrible cough just about right after she was born and has waited all the way until now to hold her. He’s that protective of her already. 

I am very happy to see her in his loving arms. 

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4 Responses to Eight Years

  1. z says:

    Ben, you’re a real champ. So glad you all found each other. You’re some of our favorite people. Can’t wait for our turn to meet BGL. If she’s anything like her parents we’ll love her.

  2. Ami says:

    I love your family.

  3. Carol says:

    Me, too.

  4. Carol says:

    P.S. I remember the donuts. Oh yes indeed I do. And the cookies. I gave all the leftover cookies, all 3 million of them (they weren’t very good, not your fault) to Matthew Eastman. I wonder if they ate them.

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