The blue of your eyes. The wild gesticulations while talking. That one laugh of yours that reminds me of that guy from The Princess Bride. How you know the entire songbooks of Ani Di Franco and Tori Amos. You rushing over when I gave myself a concussion and staying with me in the hospital, refusing to photo document it but never letting go of my hand. Your perfect bum. Movie quote-offs via email. When you say things like, “I fall more in love with you every day.” Your affection for my nephew. The way you get so enthralled by football. Morning greetings via text. How protective you are of me. The kissing. Oh yes. The kissing. How whenever I ask you what you want for dinner you invariably say, “Pasta.” Unflinching acceptance. Your love of whiskey and beer and addiction to Diet Pepsi. How you try. The mole on top of your head. Singing in the car. Your hands shoved in your pockets. The way you say, “I was just dickin’ around on line” when you mean, “I’m playing World of Warcraft.” Warming my cold feet in bed. How you work at becoming the extraordinary man that you are. The naming of our kid that we (obviously) haven’t had yet and aren’t even prepared for. But still. That you love my cooking even when it is sucktacular. Spooning. Your love all things viking. How you don’t like to order what anyone else at the table is ordering. The geekiness. The way the towels will always be neatly folded on the rack after your shower. The laughing ’til we’re crying. How I never have to wonder how you feel because you tell me. All the time. (And no, I will not grow tired of it.) How you have somehow managed to make me unafraid of what lies ahead because I know, intrinsically, you will be by my side.
Happy Birthday, my Fella.
I love you.