To my husband for our anniversary

Three years with my love

This morning three years ago I woke up beside you for the first time. Sun peeked through the windows, dappled by the sycamore tree. It was our very own. The house, the birds chirping, the vows still fresh on our lips. Such excitement, to wake and not be parted, for the day to be ours.

The house was new to us, boxes piled up because we’d had no time to unpack, our belongings spare. Pillow forts in the living room because we had no seating, a tiny round table in a vast dining room where we’d say simple prayers before our meals.

We’ve slowly grown into this old house. Three years and two babies, we live quite comfortably. I hardly remember what it was like before we were four. How could it be that you and I felt so complete, yet were missing these tiny humans that have overtaken our hearts? How could we not wake with longing every morning for the life we have now?

It is strange to look back, because it was the happiest I’d ever been. But today, three years after waking up with you, is happier by a mile. Even through the challenges we’ve faced, each day has been better.

The sun doesn’t dapple the comforter when it wakes us up in the morning anymore. We have grown. We have curtains now. And oftentimes we wake and sit in silent anticipation of the day. Our toddler chirps in the other room—a sound more magical than that of the birds, and it is a contest to see who gets to retrieve him from the crib.

You go to work, you kiss me before you go. I tend to the old house, happy in the place we’ve made our own. You come back home and step over the threshold, and I am there to greet you.

What a beautiful life it is, my love, that you and I have built together.