Eight years ago, I was sure I’d be raising two kids on my own. I’d found love once and had it taken away; that had to be it for me.
Seven years ago, we stood at the end of the outdoor garden of the Artisan Hotel and vowed to love each other through it all…the ups and downs, the backs and forths, the hards and the easys.
Sometimes it feels like we’ve been through it all, but I know there’s more to come. Because in seven years, we’ve mastered the art of the nonverbal merciless hard time, the routine that helps us both sleep better at night, and the littlest ways to show our love that mean the most.
After seven years, we’re stuck like glue.
Happy anniversary, babe. Here’s to 77 more.
